


Summer Session

by dracosoftie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracosoftie/pseuds/dracosoftie
Summary: The sequel to Resolutions. The new graduates learn lessons not usually offered at Hogwarts, both about relationships and how to be adults in the wizarding world. H/D, with other pairings. Warnings for slash, language and explicit sexual content.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson, Seamus Finnigan/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Author’s note: This is a sequel to Resolutions. You won’t be completely lost if you haven’t read it, but the relationships in Summer Session will make a lot more sense if you have.

“It’s too hot to sleep.”

Harry turned over, punching his pillow to try to make the bed more comfortable. He and Draco had been living together at Grimmauld Place for the last three weeks, spending their free time looking at flats in the London area. At least, that was what they’d planned to do. After just a week of searching, Draco suddenly lost interest and was never available when Harry wanted to go view a flat. To make matters worse, the blond had taken to disappearing for hours on end with no notice, never telling Harry anything about where he’d been when he returned.

He was worried about their relationship, and Draco’s sullenness and snarky attitude lately were driving him over the edge.

“Then cast a Cooling Charm, Draco,” he snapped, kicking the light blankets off the bed to help air circulate around his own sweaty skin.

“I don’t know how to cast one to cool an area as large as a room, and you know it will just wear off when I fall asleep,” Draco shot back, turning restlessly in the sweat-dampened sheets.

Harry gritted his teeth, fumbling for his wand. He cast the charm over Draco, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t say something he knew he’d regret in the morning. He stumbled out of bed, turning a deaf ear to Draco’s complaint that the charm would wear off long before the night was over and the steady stream of insults the blond was lobbing at McGonagall and her no house-elf policy.

“Honestly, Draco,” Harry bit out, Transfiguring a spoon from the small kitchen into a Muggle fan. He narrowed his eyes, weighing his options. 

They didn’t have electricity, and he wasn’t sure the fan would continue to run once he fell asleep. Shrugging, Harry positioned the fan so it blew toward the bed and climbed back in, closing his eyes as the cool air swept over his naked skin.

“What  _ is _ that thing?”

Harry’s eyes opened again, a sharp retort dying on his lips. He needed to be more patient, he told himself, levering up on one elbow to tell Draco about the different ways Muggles kept cool in the hot summer months without magic.

The dark-haired boy lay awake long after his bed partner had fallen asleep, the combined effects of the Cooling Charm and the fan making him pleasantly chilled. Harry pulled the blankets up over Draco, draping them up to his own waist as well. He could feel the tension still coursing through his muscles, a slight headache pounding in his temples. 

He’d felt so grateful and lucky when McGonagall had announced he and Draco would be sharing a room for the duration of the summer session. All engaged couples were entitled to, and Harry and Draco weren’t the only ones to take the Headmistress up on her offer. Neville and Pansy were two rooms over, and Justin and his boyfriend, Wayne, were on the floor above them. Everyone else had been randomly assigned a roommate of the same sex.

Harry had been elated, since he’d rather gotten used to waking up beside Draco every day in the weeks since they’d left Hogwarts. Any hope he had of their time together here being better than at Grimmauld Place was dashed as soon as the Headmistress had shown them to their rooms. 

Every pair of roommates had a similar arrangement, though those who weren’t engaged would have two bedrooms instead of one. Right about now, that configuration was sounding better and better, he thought with a grim smile. Draco hadn’t stopped complaining about the accommodations – or the rules – since they’d arrived.

They were staying in a part of the castle Harry had never seen before. Apparently it was rarely used these days, since witches and wizards tended not to marry until after they completed their education. As early as 80 years ago, McGonagall had explained, it was common practice for wizarding families to insist on arranged marriages, most of which took place when the couple turned 15. Hence the need for the married dormitory their suites were all in.

Harry looked around, studying the room they were sleeping in. Their bedroom, and the rest of their suite, was sparsely decorated but well kept. The furniture was old but serviceable, and the rooms were light and airy. They had a small but well-stocked kitchen filled with everything they could possibly need for their meals, a comfortable sitting room with a cozy fireplace and an over-stuffed couch and chairs, a large bathroom with a shower and deep claw-footed tub and a good-sized bedroom with two large closets and a bed.

Harry saw nothing that should have set Draco off. He felt the same way about Grimmauld Place, and couldn’t see why Draco made such a big deal about them living there, especially since it was only temporary. In his opinion, the decent suite of rooms was far preferable to what he’d been anticipating, which was sharing a dorm room like he had in Gryffindor Tower. This way they at least had their privacy.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to relax so he could sleep. Classes started early the next morning, and they were responsible for their own meals, as well. He’d have to get up early to cook breakfast, since he knew Draco would have neither the inclination nor the skills to do it. He hoped everyone else was faring better than they were.

***

“ _ Incendio _ .”

Hermione shot into the kitchen, her wand raised. Seeing her roommate staring wide-eyed at two blackened – and still smoking – pieces of what she could only assume had been bread, Hermione nearly sagged with relief. She’d thought something was actually  _ wrong _ .

She pulled Lisa back, aiming her own wand at the smoking mess on the counter.

“ _ Aguamenti _ ,” she said calmly, moving her wand a bit to direct the spray of cool water until the bread stopped smoking. 

She turned, eyeing the perplexed Ravenclaw appraisingly. She didn’t know Lisa Turpin well, but she’d had no qualms when McGonagall had assigned them to be roommates. If the girl was going to routinely set things on fire, though, she’d have to rethink that.

“What were you doing?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“Professor McGonagall said we were to make our own breakfast,” the girl said, her brow wrinkled as she pondered what had gone wrong. Too much power behind the spell, or the wrong spell altogether? “I was making toast.”

“You were making toast with  _ Incendio? _ ” Hermione asked incredulously, unable to keep her voice even.

Lisa stiffened, raising her chin at Hermione’s tone. 

“Well, what would  _ you _ have used to make toast?” she sniffed, crossing her arms.

Hermione stared at her for a moment longer before Summoning two fresh pieces of bread and jamming them into the toaster on the countertop. It required a spell to operate, but it was something anyone who grew up in a wizarding household, as Lisa had, should have known.

“The toaster,” Hermione answered, flicking her wand at the device. “ _ Operatio _ .”

***

“Today you will have the opportunity to visit each of the classes Hogwarts is offering during this special summer session,” McGonagall said, raising her voice to be heard over the grumbles and complaints of the assembled students. 

“Each teacher will give a twenty minute mini-class and will be available for questions afterward,” she continued, frowning at Neville and Pansy, who had just stumbled into the Great Hall. “See me this evening with your final choices. You make take as many of the courses as you like, but be mindful of any scheduling overlaps.”

The newly minted graduates simply stared at her. Now more than ever, McGonagall was convinced she’d made the right decision accepting Hannah’s proposal for the summer session. She might even add some extra classes to the traditional Hogwarts offerings, depending on how this experiment went.

“What are you waiting for?” she barked, scowling at the motley group of young adults still seated in front of her. “Go! Demonstrations begin in ten minutes.”

***

“And I can’t decide if I should take Helpful Charms or not,” Hermione said, gesturing excitedly with the sandwich in her hand. To everyone’s delight, they’d found that lunch would be prepared for them on days they had classes. It was a huge relief to Hermione, who frankly feared being in her kitchen with Lisa. “It wouldn’t give me a break between Business Etiquette and Wards and Home Protections, but it might be worth the squeeze.”

Harry shook his head, finishing his second sandwich. He’d been so tired after his sleepless night that he’d hardly had an appetite at breakfast. 

“No, no,” he said, reaching across Hannah to grab another apple. “Flitwick said the class was catch-up for students who didn’t do well enough on their O.W.L.s to take N.E.W.T.-level Charms classes. You already know most of the Charms you’d need for everyday life, and you’ve had enough Charms theory to be able to pick up any Charm you might need from a book easily.”

Hermione took another bite of her sandwich, her expression thoughtful. There were so many classes, and if she could, she’d take all of them. Even Muggle Traditions and Practices. She hated the thought that she might miss out on something.

“Seriously, classes like Practical Transfiguration, Everyday Potions and Helpful Charms aren’t meant for students like us,” Draco cut in, coloring slightly when he realized he’d inadvertently insulted Hannah. He turned to the blonde, his expression apologetic. “Hannah, I –”

The Hufflepuff laughed, waving his apology off. 

“We wouldn’t be here if not for my legendary problems with Transfiguration,” she joked, offering him a smile. “I know I wasn’t the best student, which is why I’m glad we’re getting the chance to take classes just targeted at what we’ll need to know in the real world. It’s alright, Draco.”

Blaise grinned, clapping an arm around Draco’s shoulders. He winked at his girlfriend, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to the small group gathered at their table.

“After all, it’s not like we’re talking about Remedial Apparition,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow at Neville, who blushed.

“Fuck off,” the formerly timid Gryffindor shot back, rolling his eyes. He’d been too nervous and unsure of himself to get his Apparition license when he came of age, but he didn’t think he’d have any trouble learning it now. Neville smiled, leaning in just as Blaise had. “Enjoy being the only pure-blood in Wizarding Traditions, Zabini.”

Blaise laughed, holding his hand over his heart, feigning a mortal wound. He knew he  _ was _ likely to be the only pure-blood student in the class, but his mother had always been more interested in finding her next husband than tutoring him on wizarding traditions.

“You wound me, Longbottom,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes at Hannah, who pressed a kiss against his cheek. “You truly do.”

***

Draco nudged Harry, unable to stop fidgeting in their latest demonstration class. Up front, Molly Weasley was chattering on about the different types of Cleaning Spells that could be used to wash dishes. 

“Let’s just go,” Draco whispered when he had Harry’s attention. “We don’t need to take Household Spells.”

Harry shook his head, turning his attention back to Molly’s lecture. Ron and Ginny had been mortified when she’d taken her spot at the front of the room and introduced herself – apparently the Weasley matriarch had kept her teaching position a secret from her two youngest children.

“Harry,” Draco whispered again, earning himself a jab in the ribs.

“Stop it,” Harry hissed back, glaring at the blond.

“This is ridiculous,” Draco protested, careful to keep his voice low. He knew how important Molly Weasley was to Harry, and he didn’t want to offend her. Still, the thought that he and Harry would need to take a class on Household Spells was asinine. “We both have house-elves, for Merlin’s sake!”

Harry turned toward him fully, his jaw tight. He _knew_ they both had house-elves! But above all else, he hated being helpless. It was true that he wouldn’t often use the _Toto_ _Emundo_ spell Molly was explaining, but that didn’t mean he minded knowing it, just in case.

“Later,” Harry whispered, and Draco folded his arms, admitting defeat. They only had a few more minutes left in the demonstration class, anyway.

***

Harry scooped mashed potatoes onto his plate, his green eyes flashing as he listened to Blaise and Draco mocking the courses that were being offered and everything else about the special summer session they’d be attending for the next two months. McGonagall had told them this was the last dinner they’d be eating as a group. From here on out, they were expected to cook their own dinners in their suites, meeting only for a communal lunch on week days. 

Molly was going to give them a lecture about cooking and meal planning after dinner to get them started, and Blaise was snorting with laughter as Draco quietly imitated the Weasley matriarch, already familiar with her teaching style from the earlier demonstration in Household Spells. To Harry’s increased consternation, Ginny and Ron were laughing right along with everyone else at Draco’s eerily accurate imitation of their mother.

“Why are you even here, then?” Harry snapped, glaring across the table at Draco, who immediately stopped his  _ sotto voce _ lecture on the nutritional value of root vegetables. “Seriously, Draco. You already know all of the traditions and etiquette, and you don’t care to learn about Muggles or household spells, so why are you here?”

Draco clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he studied the exasperated Gryffindor. He’d thought it rather obvious, actually. Why else would he have signed up for what promised to be two months of unmitigated boredom?

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he murmured, chagrined to see the hurt flash through Harry’s green eyes, buried under the frustration and anger. “I shouldn’t have made fun of Mrs. Weasley.”

He turned to Ron and Ginny, bowing slightly to them as well. “My apologies, Weasley and Weasley, if I offended you.”

“Mate, it wasn’t –”

Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs, shaking her head. She had a feeling this argument wasn’t really about the classes or Draco’s impersonation. Neither boy had been acting like himself since everyone arrived yesterday, and they’d both been tense and out of sorts when she visited them at Grimmauld Place last week.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Harry said, nodding at their friends as he threw a leg over the bench and stood, almost sighing in relief when Draco mirrored his actions. They left together without a word, striding silently toward their quarters while the rest of the students finished dinner.

***

Harry waited until the door shut firmly behind them, knowing Draco would throw up a Silencing Spell to ensure their privacy. He whirled around when he felt the buzz of the familiar magic around them, his chest aching with worry and frustration.

“What’s going on, Draco?”

The blond shrugged, falling into a comfortable chair near the fire. It was a warm summer day, but they’d left the fire going out of habit. He waved his wand, extinguishing the flames and closing the Floo for an added measure of privacy.

“Nothing’s going on, Harry,” Draco answered, the half-hearted smile he offered not reaching his eyes.

Harry looked away, afraid he might say something he’d regret. Things had been going so well for them lately, but he couldn’t help but feel that something was horribly wrong. Draco had been distant and whiny ever since they left school, but Harry had been confident everything would get better once they were back at Hogwarts. But here they were, settled into their rooms for the summer, and Draco was still playing the part of disaffected prick.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” Harry said dully, not noticing the hurt expression on Draco’s face.

***

“The Headmistress handed these out after you two left last night,” Hermione said, offering Harry a faint smile. It didn’t look like he’d gotten much sleep, and she couldn’t tell if they’d been up late fighting or making up.

Harry took the pair of scrolls she held out, raising an inquisitive brow. He could tell she already knew what they were, even though the seals were still intact.

“Did everyone get one?” he asked, tossing one to Draco when the blond wandered sleepily into the kitchen, covering a yawn with his hand. 

“No, not everyone,” she answered, her smile growing when she noticed the hickey on Draco’s neck. Definitely making up, then, she decided, turning to let herself out. “Why don’t you guys come by for lunch? Lisa’s a nightmare in the kitchen, but she’s gone for the weekend.”

“Sounds good,” Draco said, opening his own copy of the Headmistress’ letter. 

Neither boy looked up as Hermione left, absorbed in the scrolls they were holding. Harry could hardly believe what he was reading.

“Did you –”

“Yeah, I never thought –”

They both looked up, laughing. Harry motioned for Draco to speak.

“I never thought about becoming an Animagus,” the blond admitted, staring at the scroll in his hands with something akin to awe. 

“Me either,” Harry murmured, his face splitting in a huge grin. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to learn he had the ability, knowing that his father had managed the transformation.

“This says we’d have to be willing to give up our weekends to study,” Draco said, frowning thoughtfully. He’d planned to use their weekends to continue hunting for a suitable flat, but it might be worth putting on hold for the opportunity to discover his form and learn how to transform.

“Do you think two months is enough?” 

Draco shook his head, looking up at Harry. He knew the dark-haired wizard didn’t know half of what he should about the wizarding world; it was, after all, the reason he’d agreed to attend the summer session. He doubted Harry would go without him, and he didn’t want to deny Harry the opportunity.

“It takes closer to six months, usually,” he answered, smiling when Harry’s eyes widened. “This class will probably teach us the theory and help us manage the spell that reveals our forms, but I doubt we’d get any further than that in just two months.”

“It would be brilliant, though,” he added when Harry’s face fell. “I’m sure we could manage the rest on our own or get a private tutor. If you want to, that is.”

Harry looked up, a strange expression on his face. “After, you mean?”

Draco frowned, shrugging.

“Of course. I didn’t think you were in a hurry to settle into a job, but even if you were, we could still make time for lessons.”

A brilliant smile spread across Harry’s face, dazzling Draco. The light that had been missing from Harry’s eyes for the last week was suddenly there in all its blazing glory, and the dark-haired boy was hurtling toward him, knocking him to the floor in his exuberance.

“Draco!” Harry cried, peppering his face with light kisses before claiming his mouth in a more serious pursuit. 

“Mmpf –” Draco gave up trying to respond, deciding that it didn’t matter if Harry’s actions made no sense. Not if that was the result. He squirmed a bit on the floor, his shoulder sore from the sudden impact with the unforgiving stone.

Harry pulled back, straddling Draco’s lower body and pinning him to the floor. Between his dancing eyes, his flushed cheeks and his swollen lips, he looked absolutely gorgeous. Draco tried to pull him back down so he could tell him exactly that, but Harry stopped him with a hand to the chest.

“I thought you wanted to be rid of me,” he said quietly, a shy smile stealing across his face. “You’ve been distant and secretive, and I thought you were regretting agreeing to move in with me.”

Draco was stunned. How could Harry have possibly thought that? He thanked Merlin every day that they were together, and he planned to ensure they stayed that way for a very long time.

“You hated Grimmauld, and then you did nothing but complain once we got here,” Harry continued, noticing when Draco tensed underneath him. “We hardly ever talk anymore, and you started disappearing for hours at a time.”

He hadn’t realized Harry had noticed his absences – he’d always timed them carefully to coincide with visits from Harry’s friends.

“Oh, love, no,” he murmured, raising a hand to run it over Harry’s still-flushed cheek. “How could you think that? No.”

“But –”

Draco shook his head, cutting Harry off. 

“I’m here because you’re here. You were right that I don’t need any of these classes, though the Animagus training will be brilliant. You need them, though, and I need you, so here I am.”

Harry’s expression softened, his smile growing. 

“As for my absences,” Draco continued, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I’ve been out with Mother, hunting for a house in the countryside for the two of us. After we looked at several dozen flats in the city, I realized you’d never be happy there. So we’ve been looking at properties with a fair bit of land and homes that need a bit of renovation.”

Harry’s mouth fell open as he stared at Draco in shock. It was true that he’d felt caged in and uncomfortable in most of the neighborhoods they’d looked at, but he’d never considered actually buying a house and living in the country. Once the words came out of Draco’s mouth, though, he realized how perfect it sounded.

“Renovation?”

Draco nodded, his grey eyes firing with enthusiasm. They’d seen a fabulous old farm house in Somerset set on a large seaside property that he was almost positive would be perfect for Harry. It wasn’t in a well-known area, and its relative isolation would make it easy to set wards around the entire property, giving them the freedom to enjoy the land and the beach as well as games of Quidditch in the large clearing.

“I wanted to be able to put our stamp on something, to make it perfect for our unique needs,” Draco said, blushing slightly. “It’s hard to find a home with a potions lab and a dueling room if you’re going through a Muggle estate agent.”

Harry looked even more awestruck, mouthing the words Draco had used.

“I have my eye on a property in Somerset,” he said, pausing to see if Harry realized the significance. He didn’t. Draco sighed, even more convinced it was right for them to be attending summer classes. “No wizarding district, Harry. It’s a Muggle area. We’d be anonymous, free from the public spectacles you hate so much.”

Harry took a moment to absorb everything Draco said, then leaned down, crashing his mouth against the blond’s. He poured every bit of anger, confusion and frustration he’d felt over the last few weeks into the kiss, leaving both of them panting when they finally broke apart. 

“Do you want to go see it today?” Draco asked, panting slightly from the exertion of their kiss. “I’d planned for you to meet with the estate agent next weekend, but I’m sure we could go explore it by ourselves.”

Harry grinned instead of answering, covering Draco’s body with his own and claiming his mouth again. His tongue slipped easily between Draco’s parted lips, the firm muscle stroking everything it could reach. He mimicked the motion with his hips, pressing them against Draco as he rubbed their erections together.

Neither noticed the persistent knocking at their door, too caught up with the sensations and emotions swirling around them. They were shocked when they heard voices, looking up to find Hermione and Pansy smirking down at them.

“McGonagall wants everyone in the Great Hall to sign up for courses in ten minutes,” Pansy said evenly, as though she hadn’t caught them rutting against each other on the floor of their suite.

Hermione smiled, openly staring at the panting and red-faced men on the floor. She was a little put out that Pansy made their presence known; she’d have liked to have stuck around to watch them a little longer. 

“Oh come now,” she teased, winking at them. “We’re all friends here. Feel like giving us a show?”

Draco cleared his throat, pulling himself into a sitting position. He knew if Pansy wasn’t there the brown-haired Gryffindor would really be taking the piss out of them, but the Secrecy Spell she and Hannah had taken prevented her from mentioning the fact that she’d already seen much, much more of them.

“Hermione!” Pansy chided, smacking her on the arm. She had fond memories of some of Draco’s exploits in the Slytherin common room, but she was sure his prim and proper Gryffindor boyfriend would never agree to something so exhibitionist. She was shocked Hermione even suggested it – though she had been coming out of her shell lately. 

“Maybe some other time,” Harry smirked, brushing the dust off his trousers as he stood and offered a hand to help Draco up. 

Pansy nearly gaped at Harry’s unexpected comment. It  _ sounded _ like a joke, but she couldn’t quite tell, the sparkle in his eye making her re-think her preconceived notions of Harry Potter.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Hermione said, pulling Pansy toward the door to give the boys some privacy to straighten their clothing.

“We’ll look forward to it,” Draco answered, enjoying the gobsmacked look on his former House-mate’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for a bit of het and some graphic slash. You have been warned.

Hermione hummed to herself as she cleaned the kitchen, a goofy smile curving her lips. Harry and Draco had just left, and there was no question in her mind where they were headed. They’d been unable to keep their hands off each other all through lunch, and she’d very nearly repeated her offer to happily watch if they wanted to take things further. But Harry had been bursting with excitement to see the property Draco had picked out for them on the coast, much to Draco’s disappointment. She almost felt bad for him, except for the fact that she’d not been able to have any time alone with Theo in  _ weeks. _ She smirked as she remembered how frustrated Draco had looked when she left them earlier that morning, feeling strangely comforted by the fact that he was feeling deprived as well.

She cast the charm Molly had given them yesterday to clean the dishes, noting with satisfaction that it did seem to do a better job than  _ Scourgify _ , which was what she’d always used in the past. Some things were too deeply ingrained to use magic for, which was why she was currently swabbing the counter with a damp sponge instead of using a spell to clean it. Years spent watching her mother go through these same motions had given them almost a nostalgic feel, and Hermione reveled in the knowledge that she was an adult, responsible for cleaning her own kitchen counters now. 

She tossed the sponge into the sink and glanced down at her outfit, wondering if she should change before heading out to meet Theo. She’d spent the last few weeks with her parents, but she had every intention of convincing him to move in with her after the summer. She knew it would be hard to convince him, but it made sense, from both a financial and a convenience standpoint. They had both been accepted to Cambridge, which had fairly prestigious wizarding mastery programs in both Charms and Potions. Hermione was excited for the opportunity to participate in a dual degree program, combining Potions with biology. Theo was sticking to a mastery in Charms, but she doubted he’d be able to resist the temptation of Muggle classes once they were there.

Since they’d both be at the same school, and likely to spend most nights with each other anyway, she figured they ought to conserve their resources and live together. At least, that was the argument she was prepared to make to Theo later, when they would be busy making arrangements for the autumn. In truth, the last few weeks of separation had been horrible, and she simply missed being with him. Harry and Draco seemed to be easing into domesticity nicely, and Pansy had told her this morning that living with Neville was much less of an adjustment than she’d been expecting. There didn’t seem to be a downside, other than that Theo was likely to balk at the idea. She could understand, being more than a bit leery of the idea of marriage at this point as well. But her solidly Muggle upbringing prevented her from really understanding how serious living together was considered in the wizarding world – she had cousins who’d lived with several of their boyfriends on and off, and no one was crying out for  _ them _ to marry or face disgrace. Surely the wizarding customs weren’t as rigid as Neville had made them seem?

She jumped when she heard the door open, relaxing when she saw Theo’s head pop around it. 

“Busy?” he asked, not apologizing for failing to knock. A good sign, she figured.

“No, just thinking about this autumn,” Hermione answered, her grin back in full force as he crossed the room and grabbed her around the waist, tipping her back dramatically before bringing her back up and planting a firm kiss on her lips. “You know. You, me, Cambridge.”

Theo snorted, steadying her on her feet before letting go. 

“You’re really going to leave things in that order?” he teased, gratified to see her blush. “Am I truly more important than Cambridge and its fabulous dual degree program?”

“Theo,” she scolded, unsuccessfully trying to mold her smile into a frown. She was too excited about starting University to make it work. “Oh, sod off.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, pulling her close again and burying his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. “Not going anywhere without you, sorry.”

Hermione giggled, tilting her neck to give him better access as he nuzzled against her skin. She was suddenly very glad Lisa had gone home for the weekend, since she had no intention of ever letting anyone else watch what they were about to do. Voyeuristic as she was, Hermione drew the line at exhibitionism, her stunt in the library notwithstanding.

“Bedroom?” she whispered, closing her eyes when Theo’s lips skimmed the top of her breast, following the line of her bra. She hadn’t even realized he’d unbuttoned her blouse.

“Sounds good,” he said, dragging her toward the Floo.

Hermione blinked, confused. She held a hand out to stop him, forcing him to drop the handful of Floo powder he’d been about to toss into the fire.

“Where are we going?”

Theo grinned, a purely Slytherin look on his face. Hermione shivered in anticipation of what was to come; that look usually preceded truly fabulous sex.

“Our bedroom,” he answered, grabbing a fresh handful of powder and whisking her through the fireplace before she could object again.

She stumbled out on the other side, clutching her opened blouse with her hands. The last thing she wanted was that prat Goldstein getting a look at her. They appeared to be alone, though, in a suite that looked quite similar to hers. The only difference was there was only one bedroom that opened off the main living space.

“You two have to share a room?” she asked, her nose wrinkling in distaste. She was  _ definitely _ not going to get naked in a room Theo shared with someone else.

“Nope,” he answered, leading her through the small sitting area and into the bedroom. One large bed dominated the space, dressed with inviting buttery yellow linens and delicate-looking eyelet lace. She could see two closets from her vantage point, one empty and one filled with clothes.

“This is your room?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she took in the decidedly feminine décor. 

Theo laughed, rolling his eyes. 

“This is our room,” he answered, enjoying the look of shock on her face. “Goldstein decided to drop out after seeing the courses that were being offered, so I took the opportunity to ask the Headmistress to rearrange the living arrangements.”

Hermione was dumbstruck, unable to process what he was saying. Their room? But she already had a room back in the suite she shared with Lisa.

“Hermione,” he said, exasperated. “You’re going to make me say this, aren’t you?”

He met her wide-eyed gaze, suddenly fearful he’d made a mistake. They were both heading off to Cambridge in a few months, and he’d assumed they’d live together there. She’d spent all day yesterday complaining about her roommate, and when Goldstein had pulled out, it had seemed like the ideal reason to move in together. Until now, as he watched the girl he loved gape like a fish.

“I want to live with you, and I thought you’d want the same thing. When Goldstein left, I went to McGonagall and told her we were planning to live together this autumn at University and asked if we could share my suite now. She agreed, and the house-elves removed the second bedroom.”

He waited for any sort of response, his level of agitation growing when the usually eloquent witch said nothing.

“Er, I wanted to make it nice for you, so I had Pansy pick out the bedding and help decorate,” he said, desperately wishing she’d say something, even if it was a reproach. “Hermione?”

He let out a sigh of relief when she started to laugh, snapping out of her stupor. She smacked him hard across the chest, shaking her head.

“You prat! I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you to share a flat with me at Cambridge for weeks, and then you go do this behind my back,” she said, smiling. “How very Slytherin, Mr. Nott.”

He grinned, shrugging easily. It  _ had  _ been a rather Slytherin thing to do, but he’d wanted to make it as difficult as possible for her to say no. He was relieved all of the manipulation had been unnecessary.

“I was worried you wouldn’t want to move in together, since wizarding society seems to put so much false importance on it. I mean, it’s just a convenient arrangement, right? There’s no need to make more of it than it is. People live together in the Muggle world all the time, and no one’s sending out wedding invitations for  _ them.” _

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to the beautiful bed he’d apparently chosen just for her. She was determined to show him just how much she appreciated their arrangement. 

Theo melted into her kiss, filing away any objections he had to what she’d just said. He decided he’d wait to let her know their “arrangement” had gone on file at the Ministry the moment she said yes. What Hermione didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her – or him. There would be plenty of time to tell her they were officially engaged later. Much later.

***

Draco and Harry walked hand in hand down the path, stopping as soon as they were free of the wards so they could Apparate to Somerset. Draco wrapped his arms around his boyfriend – fiancé, his mind corrected him gleefully – and whisked them away to the coast.

Harry noticed the smell of the salt air immediately, eagerly opening his eyes to scan the horizon. Draco had Apparated them to a secluded beach, closed off from outside access by rocky bluffs on both sides that jutted out into the roiling water. The dark-haired boy quickly toed off his shoes, letting the cool sand slide between his toes as he ran toward the water’s edge, dancing backward and forward with the incoming tide.

He’d never been to the beach, discounting the horrific expedition with the Headmaster to retrieve the locket two years ago. Draco opened his mouth to chastise his lover for his childish behavior, but quickly shut it, seeing the pure delight on Harry’s face as the cold water rushed past him, submerging him to his ankles and leaving his feet buried in wet sand as it receded. He cast a longing look up the bluff at the white farmhouse that was barely visible from their viewpoint before shucking his own shoes and barreling after Harry, forcing him deeper into the waves and soaking them both.

Harry laughed, slicking his hair back from his face and casting an Impervious Charm on his dripping glasses. He launched himself at the blond, taking Draco by surprise and submerging him beneath an incoming wave. He emerged sputtering and wiping the salt out of his eyes, glaring at Harry.

“You’ll pay for that, Potter,” he growled, lurching toward Harry as fast as his heavy, waterlogged clothes would let him.

Harry grinned, immediately moving in the opposite direction. He wasn’t prepared for the rocky shelf underneath him to suddenly disappear, giving way to much deeper – and colder – water. He bobbed under the surface for a moment, quickly getting his bearings and struggling toward the surface. He wasn’t a strong swimmer by any means, especially without the aid of webbed feet and hands like the ones he’d sported during the Triwizard Tournament, but he managed to break the surface, coughing and blinking as he treaded water.

“Harry! Are you alright?” Draco called, swimming toward him with sure, strong strokes. 

Harry was surprised to find himself quite a ways from shore, carried out further by the waves as he struggled. He was relieved when Draco’s arm wrapped around him, gently towing him back to shallower water.

“Right,” Draco said, still cold with fear as he remembered Harry’s sudden disappearance. “First order of business if we buy this place will be swimming lessons.”

Harry laughed weakly, feeling oddly drained after his impromptu swim. He let Draco help him up to the beach, both of them collapsing on the slightly rocky sand as soon as they were free of the waves.

“Scared me,” Draco murmured, rolling up on his side to run his hand down Harry’s face, leaving bits of sand behind on his wet skin.

“Scared me, too,” Harry admitted, smiling softly at the look of concern on Draco’s face. He leaned up, pressing his lips against Draco’s in a gentle kiss.

He pulled away when Draco started to shiver, cursing himself for not thinking of using a Drying Charm as soon as they’d gotten free of the water. It was warm enough outside, but the water had been very cold, and they were both soaked through. He could only laugh when the grey skies opened up, letting a torrent of equally chilly rain loose as soon as he’d had the thought. 

“Can you get inside the house? Is it empty?” Harry asked, sitting up and pulling himself to his feet. His muscles still felt a bit shaky, but it felt good to stand.

“It’s empty, yeah,” Draco answered, pulling himself up as well. “And it’s a Muggle house, so there are no wards. I could Apparate us in. I doubt anyone will be out looking at houses in this weather, anyway.”

He grabbed Harry’s hand, Apparating them directly into the dilapidated farmhouse’s entryway. It wasn’t much, but it did shelter them from the rain. Harry drew his wand, casting Drying and Warming charms on both of them to quell the chill.

“It’s –” Harry looked around, at a loss for words. 

“Rough,” Draco offered, laughing at Harry’s politely horrified expression. The paint on the walls was yellowed and peeling and the wooden floor had seen better days, too. The house had good bones, though, and a lot of potential. “Here, let me show you.”

He led Harry through the rooms, talking animatedly about changes they’d make and rooms they’d add, walls they’d demolish and furnishings they could use. By the end of the tour, Harry was just as convinced as Draco was that they were standing in their dream home.

“The real gem is the property,” Draco explained, guiding Harry toward a window overlooking a field filled with tall grass. “We’d own pretty much as far as you can see from here, as well as the bluffs that overlook the beach. You can’t own part of the beach itself, but it’s pretty inaccessible unless you’re coming from our property, so that guarantees our privacy there, too.”

Harry nodded, craning his neck to see through the dirty glass. 

“We could have a Quidditch pitch over there,” Draco said, waving toward an expanse of land to the east. “And there’s a patch of land that would be perfect for garden out back. We could grow our own potions ingredients.”

Harry laughed, shooting Draco a wry grin. 

“Alright,” the blond amended, holding up his hands. “ _ I _ could grow my own potions ingredients. We’ll have to get Longbottom out here to look at the land and tell us what we could grow.”

Harry smiled, caught up in Draco’s enthusiastic vision. He loved that Draco had found them someplace secluded enough they could relax, but big enough they could entertain often. 

“It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind about this place,” Harry said softly, shaking his head when Draco opened his mouth to protest. “No, I love it. I think we should buy it.”

Draco’s smile was dazzling, his entire face lighting up at Harry’s words. This was more than just them buying a house; this was them building a future. Together. He grabbed Harry, placing his palms on the dark-haired boy’s cheeks as he pulled him in for a soft kiss.

“God, Draco,” Harry murmured, pressing himself closer against the blond as the kiss deepened. He’d been chilly just moments earlier, but suddenly his skin felt flushed and hot. The thought of having a future with Draco here in this house made him hard as a rock in seconds. 

“I need you,” he whispered, his lips moving against Draco’s as he pulled back slightly, twisting to start shedding clothing.

“Now?” Draco asked incredulously, blinking as he looked around the empty house. “Here?”

“Mmm,” Harry purred, fumbling with his belt and pushing his trousers down to his ankles. “We should christen the house.”

Draco laughed, shaking his head in amusement even as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

“We haven’t bought the house yet, prat,” he scolded, shrugging out of the garment and starting in on his trousers. “And anyone could walk in.”

Harry made an impatient sound, batting Draco’s long fingers away and pulling on the zipper himself. He hooked his thumbs in the blond’s boxers, working them down over slender hips as well.

“Good,” Harry smirked, pulling Draco’s now-naked body flush against his own. “Maybe it would scare off other buyers until we have a chance to make our offer.”

Draco made a noncommittal noise, wrenching himself out of Harry’s tight grip long enough to crouch on the floor, fumbling for his discarded trousers. As Harry watched in confusion, he pulled a small silver device out of the pocket, flipping it open and pressing a button.

Harry’s mouth hung open when he realized his lover was holding a cell phone, his disbelief growing when Draco dialed with apparent ease and showed no signs of being flustered by the Muggle technology.

“Malinda?” Harry’s eyes focused sharply on the Slytherin’s face when he started to speak. “Have I caught you at a good time?”

Draco paused, a small smile flickering across his face as he noticed Harry’s gobsmacked expression.

“Excellent. Listen, remember the property in Somerset?” he paused again, concentrating on what the woman was saying. “Yes, the one on the coast. The old farmhouse. I’d like to submit a formal offer.”

Harry could hear the faint sound of the estate agent’s voice, her words coming too quickly for him to make out.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Draco cut in, frowning slightly. “We’re offering the full asking price.”

The woman’s voice rose enough for Harry to be able to hear her protests, something to do with negotiations and inspections and other words he didn’t quite understand in that context. Apparently Draco did, though, because he quickly cut her off once again.

“I’m positive,” he said, his voice radiating authority and confidence, making Harry shiver with arousal. The estate agent must have had an answer ready, because Draco paused again. “No, the full price. I don’t care. We want to be able to start renovations next week.”

The voice on the other end of the line retorted sharply, and Harry hid a smile behind his hand. She obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with.

“There will be no mortgage. We’re prepared to have the entire sum wired to the seller’s bank first thing Monday morning.”

Harry dropped to his knees, drawing Draco’s attention. He gave him a wicked grin before leaning forward and wrapping his mouth around the blond’s still-erect cock. Green eyes sparkled with amusement as Harry looked up, watching his fiancé’s reaction. 

Draco closed his eyes, bracing a hand against the window pane to steady himself. His voice didn’t waver as he continued to issue instructions to the estate agent over the phone. He couldn’t stop himself from bucking his hips forward, delving even deeper into the wet cavern of Harry’s eager mouth.

“I don’t–” Draco faltered when Harry swirled his tongue around the fleshy head of his cock, his fingertips white as they pressed hard against the glass as he struggled to hold back a moan. “I don’t expect there to be any problems. I’m well aware that we’re offering much more than the seller could have reasonably hoped to get for this place. You’ll speed things along, won’t you?”

Harry was too busy sliding his mouth up and down the length of Draco’s shaft to hear the estate agent’s enthusiastic answer, concentrating on pressing his tongue against the vein along the underside of Draco’s cock as he bobbed his head. He knew it drove the blond crazy, and he was rewarded when Draco’s legs buckled slightly.

“Fabulous. Send the necessary paperwork to my solicitor. He’ll be handling the arrangements,” Draco said, only just managing to bite back a gasp when Harry’s fingers began to knead his balls. Harry smirked around his mouthful, enjoying watching Draco struggle for decorum. “You too, Malinda. Cheers.”

The snap of the phone folding shut was unnaturally loud in the empty space, echoing off the dilapidated walls. Harry barely had time to blink before Draco had pulled him to his feet, arousal and annoyance battling for supremacy in his stormy grey eyes.

“Bastard,” he said without heat, his breath catching at the sight of Harry’s swollen lips and glazed eyes. “You’ll pay for that.”

Harry grinned, stepping closer into Draco’s embrace, his neglected erection bobbing enthusiastically as it pressed against the blond’s hip.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Harry murmured, dipping his head to nip at the tender skin on Draco’s neck. “It’s so sexy when you morph into Draco Malfoy, pure-blood prat.”

A predatory smirk curved Draco’s lips as he registered Harry’s confession. He loved discovering the dark-haired boy’s kinks, and he had no doubt they were legion. He’d learned long ago that there was much more to the Boy Who Lived than most people saw, though it was only recently that he’d grasped just how dark and raw some of those secrets were.

“So you liked that, eh?” he teased, filing the information away for later. Perhaps Harry might like to try some role playing sometime. 

“Mmm,” Harry agreed absently, reclaiming Draco’s mouth in a wet kiss. “Less talking, more sex.”

Draco laughed, happily obliging his eager lover. He ran his hands over Harry’s smooth skin, marveling at how he always seemed to radiate so much warmth, even standing naked in an empty house on a chilly day.

“How do you want me?” he asked, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles on the firm muscles of Harry’s arse. 

“Above me, under me, I don’t care. Just inside me, soon.”

Draco was happy to oblige. He Summoned his wand, casting Lubrication and Stretching spells since it seemed that Harry was in a hurry. Besides, an unfurnished house was hardly the kind of place to take their time.

Wand still in hand, he put up a few rudimentary wards. They wouldn’t be sufficient to keep unwanted guests out, but they would be enough to give them plenty of warning should anyone attempt to enter the house. He looked out the window, smiling as he noticed the rain had picked up again. It was unlikely they’d be disturbed.

Harry braced himself against the windowsill, using it to balance as he bent slightly, giving Draco free access to his arse. The shameless pose only added to his excitement, and he groaned loudly when he felt the heat of Draco’s body behind him. Harry spread his legs even further, his thighs and hips burning uncomfortably from the stretch, as Draco positioned himself at Harry’s entrance and drove himself inside with one forceful thrust.

Harry whimpered, unable to thrust back against Draco because of his precarious position. He’d never been so thankful for preparation spells as he was in that moment, feeling only pleasure from Draco’s rough entry because of the spells he’d used.

Sweat beaded between Draco’s shoulder blades as he rammed into Harry again and again, the dark-haired boy’s cries egging him on. He always seemed to know when Harry wanted it rough, though he was equally happy to take his time and be gentle when the occasion called for it.

“Draco,” Harry gasped, arching back against him as he felt his release building in his groin. “Oh, God, yes.”

Draco’s fingers dug into Harry’s hips, holding him in place as his hips pistoned forward, dots of color bursting behind his closed eyelids as Harry’s shudders drew his own orgasm from him. He slowed his strokes, making sure to hit Harry’s over-sensitive prostate several times before finally pulling out.

“Wanker,” Harry panted, pushing off the windowsill with his hands and straightening, leaning against Draco for support. 

He heard Draco chuckle. Long arms wrapped around him as the blond pressed his lips to a spot behind Harry’s ear.

“Welcome home,” he whispered, grinning when he felt Harry shiver against him again. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Well, I still say it’s not fair,” Ginny said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Merlin, Gin, give it a rest!” Ron nearly shouted, drawing attention from several neighboring tables. He flushed, lowering his voice. “Look at me and Lavender.  _ We’re  _ not living together, and you don’t see either of  _ us _ getting in a snit about it.”

Draco smirked when he saw Lavender’s eyes narrow. Apparently marriage  _ had _ been on her mind, judging from the way she slapped the redhead across the face and stormed out. 

“Fuck. Are you happy now?” Ron asked his sister, glaring when she started to laugh. He turned to Harry, shooting his best friend a look of pure betrayal. “I blame you. You’re the one who started all this nonsense.”

Ron shot a longing glance at his own plate before pushing away from the table to go in search of his girlfriend. He’d had no idea she was even considering marriage, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Most of the wizarding world married young, and they’d certainly gotten serious over the last few months.

Harry merely shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich. It wasn’t that he minded cooking – though a little help from Draco  _ would _ be appreciated – but he really enjoyed the communal lunches that were served in the Great Hall.

“You’re not missing out on much,” Pansy said, turning everyone’s attention back to the table. “You have your own rooms, right?”

Ginny nodded, threading her fingers through Dean’s under the table. They’d made judicious use of their single rooms already, though her roommate, Mandy Brocklehurst, seemed to mind more than Dean’s. 

“Well, then you’re getting all the benefits without any of the downsides,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes as she looked at Neville. 

“What benefits?” he grumbled, stabbing at a forkful of pasta salad on his plate.

“The benefits you’d be enjoying, too, if you’d realize I’m not a house-elf!” Pansy snorted, drawing a laugh from Harry. He and Draco had engaged in a similar argument the night before after Harry had picked a pair of Draco’s socks up off the range in the kitchen. “Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I know any more about cleaning than you do, Longbottom.”

The table erupted in laughter at her words. Even Pansy cracked a smile, shaking her head good-naturedly and allowing Neville to kiss her on the cheek. The group fell back into easy conversation for the duration of the meal, laughing and joking with each other.

It wasn’t until they were all standing to leave that Pansy’s comment really registered with Harry, who turned to Draco with a look of horror on his face.

“Wait. Does that mean you think  _ I’m _ the girl?” 

***

Harry had no idea what Draco did while he was in his Wizarding Traditions class. He and most of the other pure-bloods didn’t need to attend, since they were well-versed in the formal traditions of their world. Theo told Hermione he’d worked with a tutor since age four, and Harry suspected Draco’s education had started at that age, too, if not earlier.

He looked out the window, straining to see the Quidditch pitch in the distance. Neville was missing from this class as well, though both Ginny and Ron had chosen to take it. Though they were one of the oldest pure-blood families left, the Weasleys placed no importance on most of the wizarding traditions. 

“They’re not out there,” Hermione whispered, pulling herself away from the lecture on formal greetings long enough to notice Harry’s preoccupation. “Neville needed some help in Greenhouse One.”

Harry nodded, turning his attention back to the lecture. He’d never known there was more than one way to shake someone’s hand, and he absently wondered how many wizards he’d mortally offended over the last year with his improper technique.

“Tomorrow is Draco’s day to pick, so they’ll probably be in the Potions Lab,” she continued, half-listening to the instructor drone on as she took meticulous notes. “He’s close to getting the –” she broke off, giving Harry an apologetic smile. “I’m sure you hear about this all night long. You don’t need  _ me _ going on about his potions experiments, too.”

Harry quickly masked his confusion, feeling slightly hurt that Draco shared how he spent his days with Hermione instead of him. He’d had no idea Draco was experimenting.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, focusing on watching the instructor pull Ron toward the front of the classroom to demonstrate the proper way to greet a business associate who was higher in rank.

***

“It was so nice of you to invite us all over for dinner, Harry.”

Harry returned Luna’s grin, steering her toward a cutting board with lettuce and tomatoes on it.

“Yeah, well, you’re here to work as well, so don’t thank me yet,” he said with a laugh, patiently showing her how to core and seed the tomatoes so they didn’t make a mess when she diced them.

Draco swept through the kitchen, stealing a handful of shredded cheese from a bowl on the counter and smirking when Harry glared at him. 

“Everyone’s here,” he said, eyeing the counter dubiously. “Should we enlarge this?”

Harry nodded, letting Draco take care of the Transfiguration while he pulled more ingredients out of the cupboard Molly had shown them now to spell cool. It was just as good as a Muggle refrigerator, though the charms had to be re-cast about once a week.

Armed with peppers, onions and meat, he turned to his audience. Only Hermione looked amused at the prospect of cooking their own meal that night; everyone else was carefully avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“So, tonight’s lesson,” he said, using the same tone he’d often taken during D.A. meetings. “Tacos.”

***

“I still think you should have warned Pansy about how hot those habanero chilies are,” Hermione said, dumping the remains of Pansy’s mostly uneaten meal in the bin.

Harry shrugged, grinning as he helped her scrape plates.

“Neville knew, and he didn’t say anything, either. He actually grew most of the peppers we used tonight. Sprout let him have most of Greenhouse Three to experiment with vegetables,” Harry answered, stacking the plates next to the sink.

Everyone else had left, though Hermione had insisted that she and Theo stay to help clean up. She was holding next Friday’s cooking demonstration at her own suite, so Harry suspected she’d only offered to make sure they helped her next time.

“Speaking of Neville, did the clippings he gave you this afternoon do the trick?” Theo asked, helping Harry collect the dirty dishes that cluttered every flat surface in the room. He flicked a glance toward Harry, pausing for a moment. “For the thing, I mean? It went alright?”

“That’s it!” Harry yelled, slamming a glass down on the tray and staring at Draco. “What the hell is going on? Why does everyone else seem to know all about this mysterious potion when I didn’t even know you were working on anything until today?”

Draco flushed, but he looked excited instead of chagrined. He pushed Harry toward the kitchen, ignoring the knowing smirk on Theo’s face.

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case I couldn’t get in on such late notice, but I just finished the last round of testing on the experimental potion I needed for the application, and it’s perfect!”

Harry frowned in confusion. He had absolutely no idea what Draco was talking about. 

“Exeter, Harry,” Draco said, his grey eyes dancing with excitement. Hermione clapped her sudsy hands together, dancing over to hug the blond. “I’ve been accepted to Exeter’s Potions Mastery.”

Harry felt like he’d been blindsided by a Bludger. Exeter had extended an offer for him to join its Healing program, but he’d turned them down, knowing Draco had no intention of pursuing further education. Draco was the Malfoy heir; he needed to start learning the ropes of the family business as soon as Hogwarts ended.

“But –” Harry swung around to face him, the tray of dirty dishes in his hands forgotten. “But Malfoy Industries. You have responsibilities, things your family expects you to do. And I – I turned them down, Draco. I turned Exeter’s offer down.”

Harry’s chest tightened with panic and remorse. Would Draco go to Exeter alone? Harry had known they’d spend most of their days apart, since Draco would be working in the city most of the time, and he’d assumed he’d find a job himself to pass the time. Probably something at the Ministry, or maybe even a low placement in one of Draco’s companies. He’d really wanted to pursue Healing, especially since Madam Pomfrey had discovered he had a natural inclination for it when he’d worked with her in those weeks after the final battle, patching up minor injuries and helping with on-going cases so she could spend her time with the more seriously injured.

“Actually, Harry, you didn’t,” Hermione said, flushing crimson. A small smile played on her lips as she sat the soapy plate she’d been washing aside. 

“I did,” Harry insisted, pushing the tray of dishes onto the counter. “I sent an owl a few months ago, declining the spot. I’m sure it’s already filled. Exeter’s program is one of the best, there’s no way an empty spot would –”

“Harry,” Draco said firmly, coming up behind him and resting his hands on Harry’s tense shoulders. “You didn’t. We intercepted the owl. You’re enrolled for the autumn term.”

“I – you  _ what _ ?”

Hermione wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him toward an empty stool and urging him to sit. He looked shell-shocked and bewildered, and she didn’t want to risk him stumbling.

“We knew how much you want to be a Healer, Harry,” she said, smiling up at Draco, who still had his hands curled protectively around Harry’s shoulders. “We couldn’t let you pass up that opportunity.”

Draco nodded, squeezing Harry’s tight muscles briefly.

“Father’s not pleased, but he accepts my decision. I’m postponing entering into Malfoy Industries until after we’ve finished University, with the possibility of never taking over, should I so choose.” He noticed Harry open his mouth to protest and cut him off with another squeeze. “I’m hardly the last Malfoy, Harry. I have several cousins in France who’d love the opportunity to run things, and Father will likely keep the helm for years and years to come, anyway.”

He ducked down, looking Harry in the eye.

“I want to be happy. I want  _ us  _ to be happy. We could do great things together, as a Healer and a Potions Master. Or maybe you’ll work at St. Mungo’s and I’ll leave potions behind and become the executive my Father has always dreamed of. It doesn’t matter, so long as we’re both happy.”

Harry shifted, suddenly feeling as light as a feather. The house they’d bought was a short Apparation or Floo away from Exeter, and he realized Draco had probably planned it that way. He wasn’t quite ready to let the blond off the hook, though, for keeping so many secrets.

“Exeter, then,” Harry said, unable to contain the grin that split his face. He was getting everything he’d ever dared hope for. “But don’t think I’m not watching you, Draco Malfoy,” he warned, his expression turning stern. “You’d best not be keeping anything else from me. I’ve had enough secrets and intrigue for awhile.”

Hermione drifted back toward the sink, blinking furiously as tears clouded her vision. She cursed herself for being so sappy, focusing her attention on Levitating the dishes Harry had gathered into the sink.  _ Honestly,  _ she chastised herself,  _ if I’m this bad about  _ their _ engagement, how bad will I be when I finally get engaged myself? _


	4. Chapter 4

Luna squinted as she watched the uncomfortable straight-backed chair in front of her tremble violently before sprouting a light layer of purple fuzz and falling over. She simply sighed, turning her attention back to the pile of knitting in her lap. The irregularly shaped piece was meant to be a muffler for the over-sized snout of a Snorkack, but she hadn’t been able to pattern right. 

She frowned, studying the gold and lavender muffler. It would have been easier to make had she actually had a Snorkack’s measurements, but she understood their need for secrecy. Luna only hoped her offering of mufflers and socks (to cover their hoofed feet, which must surely get cold in the snow) would help her coax the reclusive beasts out of hiding on her next trip to Sweden.

She didn’t even look up as the furry chair wobbled, righting itself before an explosion of fluffy white batting burst from its seat, covering the entire sitting room.

“A little too much,” Luna murmured quietly, absently waving her wand to clear the mess away. When the spell finished the chair reverted to its original form. “Try again.”

Hannah sighed, slumping against the sofa. The spell to change a simple chair into a comfortable one had  _ looked _ easy enough in her Practical Transfiguration class earlier that afternoon, but it was proving much harder than she’d expected. 

Neither girl looked up at the brisk knock on their door, or when it opened a second later. Blaise spent most of his nights in Hannah’s room, and Luna had come to think of him as a third roommate. She was hoping the couple might agree to come with her on her autumn trip to hunt for Snorkacks, since Harry and Draco made it clear they wanted nothing to do with it.

“Hey, Hannie,” Blaise said, ducking to press a kiss on the top of her head. “Luna. Knitting again?”

Luna either didn’t hear or simply didn’t register the sarcasm in his voice, proudly holding up the misshapen muffler so Blaise could examine it.

“Er, lovely,” he said, sending Hannah a hopeful glance. He’d become much more tolerant of the eccentric Ravenclaw over the last few months, but she still made him uneasy.

Hannah shook her head, pointing to the chair that still sat in the middle of the room. It was the only homework the class had been set for the day, and she was determined to complete the Transfiguration successfully.

“She’s supposed to Transfigure it into something comfortable,” Luna said, not looking up from her knitting. 

Hannah tried again, this time managing to Transfigure the hard wooden seat into something softer. The rest of the chair remained resolutely wooden, though, and she nearly screamed in frustration. It didn’t help that Blaise was sitting so near, his hand caressing her back in what she was sure he thought was a comforting manner. 

“Blaise,” Luna said, the focus of her usually dreamy blue eyes sharp as she looked up at him. “Could you go over to Seamus’ and ask him if his Gran has sent the Leprechaun hair he asked her for?”

Blaise squinted at her, unsure if she was serious. Leprechaun hair? Why would they need that?

“It’s for a potion we’re experimenting with,” she explained, turning back to her knitting. “We’re working with Draco to try to invent a less potent form of Felix Felicis that would be legal to use.”

Still puzzled, Blaise nudged Hannah. The blonde smiled and nodded, encouraging him to go. She could have kissed Luna for her insight.

“Alright,” he said, giving Hannah’s shoulder a squeeze before he stood. “I’ll be back soon. Do you girls need anything else while I’m out?”

Hannah shot him a dimpled smile.

“Could you stop by Lavender’s room, too? Her Household Spells homework was to make cookies, and she said she’d save me some.”

Blaise nodded, letting himself out quietly. Hannah stared at the door for a moment, her shoulders sagging in relief when she realized he wasn’t popping back in.

“Thank Merlin,” she said, smiling at Luna. “Thanks for running him off. I love him, but he’s been driving me spare lately.”

Luna waved her gratitude off, holding up her latest pair of mittens to study while Hannah ended the spell on the chair to start over.

“He’s worried you’ll want to get engaged, since everyone else is,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “His older brother was disowned for marrying without the family’s permission, so he’s understandably worried.”

Luna paused, her head cocked as she considered things. 

“Not that Lady Zabini wouldn’t approve of you. I’m sure she would,” Luna added as an afterthought, picking up her knitting needles again. 

Hannah gaped at the Ravenclaw, absently swishing her wand as she cast the Transfiguration spell again. She was so horrified by what Luna had said that she didn’t notice when the plain chair morphed into a comfortable-looking Wingback with extra padding.

“Wonderful,” Luna said, dropping her knitting to clap. She jumped up, eager to test out the Transfigured chair. “Mmm, and comfortable, too. Well done.”

Hannah still stood in the same spot, staring at Luna’s now-empty chair. She turned, mildly surprised to see the Transfigured chair the blonde now sat in.

“Oh, stop,” Luna scolded, wiggling around and sighing. “Like you didn’t know Blaise was thinking about what you two would do after this summer. He’s already making plans for you to spend the Midsummer Celebration with his family.”

Hannah blinked, mentally counting days. The festival was on June 24, which was only a week away. She’d been planning to spend the holiday at school, since her parents didn’t celebrate many of the pagan festivals the rest of the wizarding world did.

“Hannah,” Luna said patiently, drawing her attention back to the conversation. “You knew that. Remember last week, when he told you not to make plans around then? When he asked you if you were going home, and you said no? Then he said ‘perfect, make sure you have dress robes’?”

Hannah’s brow furrowed as she recalled the conversation. At the time it hadn’t made sense, but she could see Luna’s point. Blaise could be a bit ineloquent at times, and she’d obviously missed the point of what had seemed like a random and odd conversation at the time. He’d been asking her home to meet his family.

“Oh!” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Merlin, I need to go shopping!”

She blinked again, as though noticing the chair for the first time. 

“Hey, I did it!”

***

Pansy looked around, taking stock of who was gathering in the Transfiguration classroom. She wasn’t surprised to see Harry, Draco or Hermione, but Luna, Theo and Terry Boot were surprises. She grinned when Blaise walked in. It was common for Slytherins and Gryffindors to have the Animagus ability, but she was glad to see they outnumbered the Gryffindorks.

Neville squeezed her hand, drawing her attention. McGonagall had entered, which must mean everyone who had been invited was there.

“Good afternoon,” the Headmistress said, her usually grim expression lightening as she looked at her students. Only a small percentage of witches and wizards were born with the ability to transform, and even fewer of those actually managed the spellwork to make it happen. She was determined to help usher each of the assembled students through the process.

She strode toward the front of the classroom, changing into her Animagus form mid-step with a wandless, wordless spell. She leapt easily to the desk, transforming back just as she made contact.

“Each of you in this room has the magical power and inborn ability to become Animagi,” she said, continuing as though she’d not just taken the form of a cat and transformed back in the span of seconds. She brushed a stray lock of graying hair back into her severe bun as she spoke.

“I will not mislead you. No part of the process will be easy. It will take hours of introspection and meditation to discover your Animagus form. After that, you will spend months researching your inner animal and its physiology, habits and temperament. The actual spells to master the transformation are draining and sometimes painful. The risks associated with the transformation process are not insignificant.”

She cast her gaze around the room, gratified to see that the students seemed to be taking her warnings with the graveness they deserved. Witches and wizards had been maimed or killed by botched transformations, mostly due to insufficient research and preparation. She would not allow that to happen.

“Anyone who is not prepared to dedicate themselves to the serious study required to become an Animagus should leave. This is a commitment that will require months of grueling work. There will be times you get discouraged and want to quit. There will be setbacks that leave you certain you will never attain the transformation.”

Her eyes strayed toward Harry, a calculating gleam in them as she continued.

“The process is closely monitored by the Ministry. You will be assigned a mentor, and that person will help guide you through the difficult journey toward finding and achieving your form. Although  _ some people _ have managed the transformation without official guidance, it is not recommended. If you are to remain in this class, you  _ will _ accept and follow the Ministry’s regulations.”

Harry blushed, knowing she was referring to the Marauders. He made a mental note to pop back to Grimmauld Place over the weekend to unearth Sirius’ journals, which Remus had left him when he died. He was sure there would be a entries about the Animagus process, and he was dying to read how they’d managed the transformation without any outside help. It struck him as dangerous and ill-advised, which meant it was right up the Marauders’ alley.

He snapped back to attention when he realized McGonagall was still speaking, a hint of a smile on her face as she watched his return to awareness.

“ – not for everyone. Simply because you have the ability does not mean you’ll be successful, nor does it mean that you must attempt the transformation.”

The classroom was silent; the students were hanging on her every word. She allowed herself a larger smile, thankful once more that Miss Abbott had come up with the idea of extra training for the graduating class. If not for the class, how many of the students before her would never have known they  _ could _ be Animagi, let alone done the work to achieve the transformation? 

“Please take the next few days to think things over. This is not a commitment to be entered into lightly. We will begin our classes next week, starting with the advanced meditation techniques you will need to pull your form out of your consciousness.”

No one moved, and McGonagall’s lips twitched again. She was sure everyone would be back next week.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, amused at their expressions, which ranged from wonder to thoughtfulness to curiosity. “Dismissed.”

***

Harry wandered into the Great Hall, sinking down in an open spot between Neville and Seamus and grabbing a sandwich. He exchanged a glance with Draco, who was across the table a few seats down, smiling to himself as he thought about the invitation they’d received from Blaise to accompany him home that weekend.

“– never spent Midsummer away from my Gran, so I was surprised when I told her and she said she wasn’t upset at all. I guess Lady Zabini had already Fire-called her about it.”

Harry nodded, not at all surprised to hear that Neville – and Pansy, too, he’d guess – were part of the Midsummer gang going to Blaise’s. Hermione had asked him about it the night before, so he knew she and Theo would be there as well. Draco had a few theories about what was going on, but he’d made Harry swear not to tell anyone else before they got to the Zabini’s sprawling Herefordshire estate on the River Wye.

“A few of us will be there,” Draco said, sending Harry a meaningful look intended to remind him to keep his mouth closed. He felt Blaise kick him under the table. “The Zabinis always throw a big Midsummer festival for the town, so they probably needed help setting things up this year.”

Blaise grinned, relieved his friend hadn’t said more.

“We do. It’s a three-day festival that ends with a fancy dress ball at the estate. I’ve never been able to invite anyone before, so it should be loads of fun,” he said, willing Draco not to mention the fact that he’d been attending the ball since he was old enough to dance.

He looked away when Luna smiled at him, feeling his cheeks heat. He hadn’t invited her, nor had he extended an invitation to Seamus. He doubted the Irish wizard found it odd, since they weren’t close friends, but he worried Luna might be offended.

“It’s a very special thing, a Midsummer celebration,” she said, a knowing look in her eyes. Blaise held his breath; it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch for the blonde witch to have worked it out. She was terribly observant, despite her dreamy façade. “I’m spending mine with Daddy. We always have a blessing ceremony out near our creek at midnight. Near the Plimpies, you know. They’re terribly lucky.”

“I’ve never been to a Midsummer festival,” Hermione said, drawing everyone’s attention away from Luna’s rambling. 

No one noticed the curious look Blaise sent Luna, or the sly grin she sent back to him. They spent the rest of the lunch period talking about the different celebrations they’d been t o over the years and filling Harry and Hermione in on what Midsummer was and why it was important.


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t understand.  _ What  _ exactly is it she wants us to do?”

Draco shrugged, pulling Harry down onto the sumptuous bed. They’d arrived at the Zabini estate that afternoon, along with Hannah, Theo, Hermione, Pansy and Neville. Blaise was cloistered away with his mother and brother, taking care of the last-minute details for the Midsummer festival that would start the next morning.

“Midsummer’s eve is a powerful time for wizarding kind,” Draco explained, rolling his eyes when Harry huffed out a sigh and crossed his arms. “Yes, I know you learned about it in your wizarding traditions class this week. That was just skimming the surface, though.”

He saw Harry relax a bit, clearly curious.

“The solstices and equinoxes are times when the barrier between nature’s innate magic and our own magic weakens. That’s why we have celebrations during these times – the rituals you learned about actually help strengthen our magical cores. Much of the wizarding world ignores these traditions, dismissing them as antiquated. Really, though, they’re necessary to the revitalization of our magic.”

He paused, waiting to see if Harry would interrupt. The dark-haired boy was still paying rapt attention, so he continued.

“Have you ever wondered why pure-bloods and many half-bloods seem to have stronger magical powers than Muggle-born?” He didn’t wait for Harry to answer, knowing the Gryffindor would likely take offense to the question. “It’s not because the pure-blood lines are stronger. It’s because they regularly boost their magic through these ancient rituals.  _ That’s _ one of the reasons Muggle-born need to be educated in our ways – the strength of the magical community is suffering because of their ignorance of our customs.”

Harry frowned, digesting the information. If what Draco was saying was true, and Harry had a feeling it was, then the case for educating Muggle-born on wizarding traditions was even stronger than he’d imagined.

“So Blaise’s mum is having us participate in a ritual to boost our magic?” he asked, his tone skeptical. The ebullient woman had seemed positively gleeful when she greeted them after they’d arrived that afternoon. It had made Harry anxious – and suspicious.

“Partially,” Draco answered, a wicked grin stealing across his face. Harry nearly lost his train of thought; the blond looked irresistibly handsome. “We  _ will _ be doing the traditional ceremony to boost our magic. I can’t wait for your reaction. You’re going to be blown away.”

“But?”

Draco’s smirk grew to epic proportions, and Harry felt a stirring of interest in his groin. He loved it when Draco’s cunning Slytherin side showed, and the blond knew it.

“Do you know how many times the illustrious Lady Zabini has been married?”

Harry shook his head, his libido at war with his mind. He wanted to tackle Draco and make good use of the wonderfully soft mattress they were sitting on, but he knew what Draco was saying was important. He needed to pay attention.

“Seven. Blaise’s father was number four. His brother’s was number two. She’s never changed her name, and both of her sons have her name as well. The Zabinis are one of the oldest wizarding families in Europe, which also means they’re land-rich and money-poor,” Draco said, waggling his eyebrows at Harry. “The Malfoys are an exception to that. We’ve both land  _ and _ money.”

Harry rolled his eyes, well used to the way Draco bragged about his heritage. While Lucius had indisputably been a bad apple, the rest of the Malfoy line had been relatively upstanding citizens. And Harry had to admit that since his release from Azkaban a few months ago, Lucius had been making every effort to earn back society’s trust and respect. He’d publicly renounced Voldemort – Ron had snorted at the headline, but Hermione had said it was never too late to do the right thing – and donated scads of money to worthy causes, like orphanages and programs that helped witches and wizards regain their lives after the war. He’d even gone so far as to sponsor the summer session Harry and Draco were attending, saying education in both Muggle and wizarding traditions and history was important. Because of his generous donation, none of the students were paying tuition for the summer. The rest had been put into an endowment to provide the same aid to future students.

“The lovely Lady Zabini has made a habit of marrying wealthy wizards and convincing them to support her estate. When she’s bled them for all she can, she divorces them,” Draco said matter-of-factly, snorting inelegantly at the look o f shock and outrage on Harry’s face.

“She just uses them and boots them out? What kind of person does that?”

Draco laughed, earning himself a glare from Harry.

“An opportunistic one, just like her husbands. She marries men who have money but no station in society. It’s mutually beneficial. She boosts their WR rating and they boost her Gringotts account. When they’ve each gotten what they want they divorce,” he explained, his eyes dancing as he studied Harry’s stony face. “It’s quite common, actually. If it makes you feel better, think of them as business dealings rather than marriages.”

“That’s – that’s horrid,” Harry sputtered, his thoughts immediately drawn to his own engagement to Draco. If marriage was taken that lightly in the wizarding world, what did it stand for? 

“Most marriages aren’t like that,” Draco said gently, correctly reading the apprehensive look on Harry’s face. “Ours won’t be.”

Harry shifted over and let Draco wrap an arm around him. He relaxed against his fiancé, snuggling into the warmth Draco always radiated and inhaling his spicy scent. Draco was right. Their marriage wouldn’t be like that.

“I already have money, and my WR rating is higher than yours,” Harry said, chuckling lightly when Draco pressed a light kiss against his scar. 

“Indeed, Mr. Potter,” Draco said, enjoying the way Harry shivered when he traced the raised scar with his tongue. “But I have  _ more _ money, and my WR rating isn’t that far behind.”

Harry laughed, angling his face so Draco would trail kisses down his jaw toward his mouth. Though his eyes had drifted closed when Draco kissed his scar, Harry could tell the blond was smiling from the way his mouth curved as he brought their lips together.

“I suppose you have other reasons for marrying me, then?” Harry said, arching and gasping when Draco’s insistent mouth left his and traveled down his neck and across his collarbone.

“Oh, I do,” Draco purred, running his hands underneath Harry’s shirt and up over his toned stomach and chest.

“Your wickedly talented mouth, for starters,” he said, closing in for a heated kiss that left Harry’s lips tingling.

“Your incredibly fit body,” Draco continued, pulling Harry’s shirt up over his head and laving worshipful kisses over his lightly tanned chest, scraping his teeth over taut brown nipples with exquisite care.

Harry moaned again, his heart racing as Draco’s mouth dipped lower, his tongue tracing the outline of Harry’s abdominals and dipping teasingly into his navel. Draco rubbed is nose against the light fur on Harry’s stomach, enjoying the way the soft hairs tickled his nose in a way that reminded him only of Harry.

Hands ran down Harry’s sides, slipping underneath him to fit against the curve of his arse.

“Let’s not forget your other assets,” Draco murmured, grinning in delight at Harry’s protest when he pulled away, a Muggle wallet in his hands. 

“Your generous bank account is a point in your favor, I have to say,” he teased, delving inside the leather wallet for a flimsy piece of plastic. He brandished the Gringotts Black card, waving it in the air before dropping a kiss against Harry’s nose. 

“Seriously, do you have any idea how rare these are?” he asked Harry, replacing the card and tossing the wallet onto a nearby nightstand. “Only about two percent of the wizarding population has enough gold in their vaults to get one of those.”

Harry growled, pulling Draco down on top of him. He didn’t want to discuss his considerably finances at the moment.

“Your eagerness is another point in your favor, Lord Black,” Draco smirked, straddling Harry and pinning him against the bed. He could feel the evidence of Harry’s arousal underneath him, and he bucked his hips, rubbing his equally hard cock against Harry’s.

“Where was I?” he asked, his grey eyes alight with humor and lust as he studied the dark-haired boy underneath him. “Oh yes, an inventory of your marriageable traits.”

Harry’s scathing reply was lost when Draco sat back, his nimble fingers making short work of Harry’s belt and trouser fastenings. Any protest turned into an incomprehensible moan of approval when Draco’s long fingers wrapped around his cock, pumping the shaft once before squeezing lightly.

“This alone would be enough to convince me,” Draco whispered, leaning forward so his breath ghosted against Harry’s ear. He gave him another stroke, feeling Harry’s body tense underneath him. “Luckily you’re the whole package, Potter. Brilliant, fit, loving, kind, funny – I’m marrying you to get it all.”

Deciding Harry had been sufficiently reassured about the genuine – and mutual – love they shared, Draco claimed his mouth, pouring everything he hadn’t found the words to express into a passionate kiss. Harry’s strong arms came around him, pressing them closer together as he returned Draco’s affections with equal fervor.

He’d just managed to unfasten Draco’s trousers when a knock sounded against the door. 

“If you can pull yourselves away, it’s time for dinner,” Blaise called through the door, grinning when he heard twin growls in response. The house-elf who had originally tried to fetch the couple for dinner had made it quite clear what the duo was up to. “Mother hates to be kept waiting. Ten minutes.”

“Fuck,” Draco muttered, pressing his forehead against Harry’s as the two boys struggled to catch their breath.

“Not enough time,” Harry answered, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. 

He thrust up against Draco, hissing out a breath as his sensitive erection dragged along Draco’s. The blond rutted against him, as eager as Harry to get some sort of release. He nearly howled in frustration when Harry pushed him off.

“Wait,” Harry said, pushing Draco back against the bed and fumbling to free Draco’s cock from the strained material of his unfastened trousers. 

He lowered himself, taking Draco’s erection into his mouth without further warning. Draco cried out, his hips reflexively thrusting upward seeking more of the delicious heat that had enveloped him. Harry rested a hand against his pelvis, keeping the blond pinned to the bed as he bobbed his head up and down his cock.

Knowing they were short on time, Harry wrapped his hand around his own aching cock, fisting it as he laved Draco’s cock with his tongue, his lips forming a tight seal, ensuring Draco felt every movement of Harry’s mouth.

“God, fuck,” Draco gasped, letting his hands fist in the bedclothes to prevent himself from burying them in Harry’s hair. He was too far gone to have any sort of control, and he couldn’t trust himself not to hurt the dark-haired boy.

He felt Harry’s tongue swipe across the head of his cock before pressing against the thick vein on the underside and following it down to the base. Without a thought about who might be listening on the other side of the wall, Draco came explosively, calling out Harry’s name as he shot into the welcoming mouth.

Harry’s own orgasm began almost as soon as the first jet of come hit the back of his throat, his hand wrapped around his cock tightly as he frantically stroked himself. His moans only served to stimulate Draco’s sensitive cock even more, sending him into a sensory overload that bordered on painful.

“Love you,” Draco murmured, shifting so Harry could stretch out beside him. 

Neither was surprised to hear another knock on the door a few minutes later, along with Blaise’s admonishment to tuck everything back in where it belonged and get down to dinner.

***

It wasn’t until after everyone had eaten that Harry realized Draco had never explained what Lady Zabini wanted them to do. 

“Draco, what –”

He broke off abruptly when a high-pitched squeal sounded in the next room. Wands out, Harry, Draco and Neville all went running toward the sound. Behind them, Hermione and Pansy followed at a more sedate pace; they had a very good idea of what would make Hannah shriek like a banshee.

“I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it!” Hannah twittered, staring at her hand in shock. A huge canary diamond glittered up from her ring finger.

“She said yes, then?” Pansy drawled from the doorway, making Hannah blush and Blaise grin.

“She never actually  _ said _ yes, but I think so,” he answered, making Hannah color even more.

“Yes, of course! Yes. Yes!”

Only Hermione noticed the three boys surreptitiously return their wands to their wrist holsters before charging toward the happy couple offering their congratulations. Though only Draco and Pansy had known about Blaise’s plan to propose in advance, no one else – other than Hannah – seemed surprised.

“Is that why you brought us all here?” Hermione asked as she admired the heirloom ring on Hannah’s finger. “To celebrate your engagement?”

Harry frowned at the look Blaise and Draco exchanged before the darker Slytherin spoke up.

“No, not exactly,” he said, ushering everyone back toward the drawing room where they could enjoy drinks by the fire to toast the engagement. “But I’m glad everyone was here. I’m just sorry we couldn’t have invited more of your friends, Hannie.”

Hannah waved away his concern, oblivious to the way he’d steered the conversation away from the purpose of their visit.

“They can wait until we get back to Hogwarts,” she said, a huge smile on her face. Her delighted expression faltered after a moment. 

“Does your mum know about this? She won’t – I mean – it’s alright?”

Blaise grabbed her hands, pulling her closer to him. He wrapped his long arms around her, tucking his chin against her shoulder.

“She gave me the ring as her blessing,” he said softly, pressing a kiss against her neck. “She was just glad we made things official before shacking up together. Of course, this means the house-elves will have some re-arranging to do when we get back to school.”

Hannah’s heart raced – she’d been too caught up in the excitement of Blaise’s unexpected proposal and the gorgeous ring he had slipped on her finger to think much about the future. Now that they were engaged – Merlin, she had to Fire-call her parents! – there would be no reason they couldn’t live together at Hogwarts.

“Poor Luna,” she murmured, feeling anxious about leaving the frazzled Ravenclaw alone. Luna was a dear, but she couldn’t be trusted to keep track of things like turning off the range or putting the milk in the cold cabinet.

Draco laughed, reminding her that they weren’t alone.

“Poor Finnigan, more like,” he said, drawing more laughter from the group. “Now that Susan’s best friend has gotten herself engaged do you think there’s much hope for him finding any peace?”

Hannah smiled, giving Blaise’s hands a squeeze before releasing them. Draco was right – Susan was going to be an absolute bear.


	6. Chapter 6

Theo fidgeted, pulling at the collar of his dress robes uncomfortably. They’d all brought proper attire for the Midsummer festival, but Lady Zabini had insisted they dress in the robes she provided. They were all perfectly fitted, thanks to Sizing Charms, but he still felt out of place in the flowing dark blue silk. Hermione stood next to him, her own lighter blue robes falling into graceful waves as the hem brushed the teak floor of their suite’s dressing room.

“Need help?” he asked, holding his hand out for the delicate sapphire necklace she was struggling to clasp underneath her heavy brocade of hair. It fell in sleek waves, held back from her face with ornate sapphire combs but loose around her neck and shoulders. A house-elf had appeared an hour ago with instructions to help with her hair and make-up; Hermione had protested, reducing the poor elf to tears before finally giving in.

Hermione smiled at the gesture. In some ways it seemed like they were an old married couple. How many times had she seen her father hold his hand out expectantly for a necklace or bracelet her mother had struggled with? That the action was so natural and reflexive for Theo made her warm inside. They’d been living together for a few weeks, and so far they’d managed to merge their habits perfectly. Theo understood the need for quiet time, since he was every bit as serious about his studies as she was. Though he was a pure-blood who’d been raised with the help of house-elves, he never batted an eye at being handed a dish to dry or a pile of laundry to charm clean. They were both excelling at the charms and spells Molly taught them in her class, and their division of chores was effortless. They had none of the arguments about who did what like Pansy and Neville did, nor did they get restless if they spent too much time alone together like Harry and Draco did. He was the perfect roommate, and Hermione couldn’t wait until they started University in the autumn, so pleased that she’d managed to get everything she wanted without the yolk of engagement.

“Beautiful,” Theo murmured as he settled the jewels around her slender neck, letting her heavy hair fall around her in waves. He stepped back, enjoying the sight of her looking so perfectly coiffed; for a moment, she reminded him of the way his mother had always looked when she stepped into the nursery to bid him goodnight before heading out to a party or dinner. His father had always worn an expression of proud affection when he’d looked at her, and now Theo understood exactly what he must have been thinking as he watched is wife sweep across the room in her elegant gowns. He saw those same qualities in Hermione, filling him with the same unnamable emotions. 

He caught her hand as she turned away, pulling her back gently. 

“I love you, you know,” he said, burying his nose in her fragrant hair. 

“I know,” she replied, oddly touched by his abrupt statement. “I love you, too.”

***

“Do I look alright?” 

Blaise let Hannah spin in his arms, whistling in appreciation as her light blue gown billowed around her. Far from looking dwarfed by the voluminous skirts, she looked like some sort of fragile fairy floating on air as she moved.

“You look spectacular, Hannie,” he answered, dropping a light kiss on her cheek, careful not to smudge her artfully applied make-up. Her blonde hair almost defied gravity, the normally straight strands transformed into a riot of curls that framed her face and flounced around her shoulders. The topaz choker she wore around her neck emphasized her delicate neck and shoulders, which were bared by the low scoop of the neck on the gown.

He grinned when Hannah ran her hands across his shoulders, brushing away any wrinkles. He felt a bit ridiculous in the white dress robes, but his mother had insisted they were necessary for the ritual they would perform that night. He fiddled with his topaz cufflinks, adjusting them so they were properly displayed.

“You look amazing, too,” she whispered, running her hands over the broad expanse of his silk-clad chest, enjoying the feel of his hard muscles until feel of the smooth fabric.

“Later, Hannie,” he scolded, kissing her nose as he led her out of their suite.

***

“Gryffindor colors,” Draco moaned, the words ruined by the reverent way he stroked crimson fabric in his hands. He’d been amused when the house-elf had appeared an hour ago with their dress robes. It was a fitting choice to dress them as the fire element.

“I can’t believe Lady Zabini went to all this trouble,” Harry muttered, slipping into his own dark gold robes. He wasn’t comfortable accepting gifts this extravagant. He stared at the ruby cufflinks on the table, frowning at the fortune they must have cost, not even including the fine silk dress robes. “We’re all perfectly capable –”

“Of buying our own dress robes, yes,” Draco interrupted, suppressing a contented sigh as the silk whispered over his skin when he slid into the robes. They’d been instructed to dress traditionally, which meant no underclothes beneath the robes. Harry had been appalled until Draco had shown him the Concealing Charms wizards routinely placed on themselves when wearing the potentially exposing robes. He’d also lectured him about how lucky he was he was a bloke; witches had a whole slew of other charms they had to employ to ensure everything stayed in place. “That’s not the point. We’re guests participating in a highly specialized ritual. It’s proper etiquette for the hostess to supply the robes and accessories we need for something like this.”

Harry shook his head, yelping when a house-elf attacked his messy hair with a brush and several well-positioned charms to tame it. Draco just laughed, straightening his clothes and sliding his feet into the butter-soft Italian loafers that had come with the robes.

“I really don’t –”

Draco smothered an ill-concealed laugh at Harry’s frustration, privately acknowledging that fire had certainly been the right choice for them.

“Time to go,” he said, pulling Harry toward the corridor.

***

Pansy smoothed her dark green gown, admiring the way the tightly-fitted bodice clung to her curves. The large emerald pendant around her neck sparkled in the brightly lit dressing room, refracting patterns onto the walls around her. She looked terrific.

“You look terrific,” Neville said, his eyes on hers in the mirror as he cuddled up behind her, ducking to nestle his cheek against her shoulder. She was wearing the scent he’d mixed for her with Draco’s help, a special blend of herbs and flowers that was just spicy enough to suit her. “And you smell terrific as well.”

Pansy smiled, her eyes still on the mirror as she stroked Neville’s dark head. He looked splendid in brown silk dress robes, his emerald cufflinks glinting like her pendant. She’d originally balked at the colors of their robes, but Lady Zabini had been right. They were extremely flattering, both in cut and color.

Her short dark hair was almost impossibly shiny thanks to the house-elf’s ministrations, held back from her face by a pair of wooden combs inlaid with more emeralds. They must have cost a fortune, but unlike Harry, Pansy had no reservations about accepting the extravagant gift. Like any Slytherin, she never questioned generous gift; she knew something would be expected in return, and the gift was merely a token of appreciation – what the noble Gryffindors would likely consider a bribe.

“As do you,” she replied, her eyes sparkling as she took in the handsome sight of him in the dress robes, inhaling the earthy, masculine scent that always surrounded him. “Shall we go?”

***

They gathered in the ornate foyer. No one spoke as they waited for their hostess to lead them into the formal dining room, where their Midsummer’s eve celebrations would begin. Tomorrow the hall would be opened up to the local wizarding community in Herefordshire, giving everyone the chance to come and celebrate the Midsummer festival. The practice had started centuries ago when a Lord and Lady ruled over their parcel of the countryside; it continued now as a gesture of goodwill between wealthy pure-blood families and the wizarding communities they lived in. 

“You all look lovely,” Lady Zabini trilled, excitement lighting her dark eyes as she surveyed the assembled witches and wizards. No one could deny they all made an enchanting scene dressed to the nines in silk and jewels. “We will speak more of our Midsummer rituals after the meal, but I beg of you to simply enjoy the feast we are about to be served and think of nothing more for now.”

Harry shot a sidelong glance at Draco. The blond bowed at the waist, greeting Lady Zabini as though her brief speech had been nothing out of the ordinary. Since Draco, Blaise, Theo, Pansy and Neville didn’t seem concerned, he figured the pure-bloods in the group must have some sort of knowledge he didn’t. A quick look at Hermione and Hannah, though, seemed to prove him wrong; they didn’t look any more curious about the evening’s festivities than the others did. Harry wondered if he was just being overly anxious as he sank into his chair between Pansy and Hannah. Moments later all curiosity fled as the house-elves began to lay a sumptuous feast on the table before them and Harry was drawn into a conversation with Pansy about his plans for Exeter.

***

The night air was warm as Blaise led the group out to the terrace for drinks after their leisurely meal. The house-elves had hung fairy lights around the edges of the rough stone walls that enclosed the flag stone patio, casting an almost ethereal glow against the backdrop of the dark night sky and the river below.

Blaise’s older brother Bastien, with the wife that Luna had teasingly told Hannah he’d been disowned for marrying in tow, was acting as the ritual master for the evening. As the heir to the Zabini line it was his due, and he’d taken up the mantle with pride and ease when his mother had offered it to him. Blaise had been instrumental in the preparations as well, thought he two brothers had focused only on the traditional Midsummer ritual, leaving their mother’s addition to the ceremony entirely to her.

Harry and Hermione moved with the rest of the group when the others began to form a loose circle around a pot of freshly dug earth and a canteen of water drawn from the river just hours before. Harry tried to force himself to relax, unsure how his tight posture and racing mind might affect the proceedings. Everyone else – with the notable exception of Hermione and Hannah – looked completely relaxed and at ease.

“ _ Effloresco _ .” Bastien’s voice was low but commanding. The torches on the walls flared brightly, their warm flames dancing as they licked higher toward the sky. He immediately captured everyone’s attention, including the statuesque lady of the manor, who was standing beside him.

“Guardians of power, bringers of light and darkness, we pay tribute to you,” he continued. Harry took his cues from Draco and Neville, who he was sandwiched between, bowing low when they did. Hermione and Hannah similarly found themselves between two pure-bloods, and Harry was sure their placement in the rough circle was not mere coincidence. He saw the girls mirroring the motions of those around them, shifting his focus back to the boys beside him so he could do the same. “Merciful and just Keepers of the life force that permeates every aspect of our beings, we pay tribute to you.”

This time Harry was ready, bowing low toward the center of the circle. He watched with curious eyes as Bastien stood while the others retained their hunched, subservient postures, their eyes fixed on the objects of tribute at the center of the circle.

“Protector of our kind, custodian of all that we know and embrace of our world, we pay tribute to you.”

Harry scrambled to kneel, his eyes surreptitiously on Draco to make sure he made no misstep. Heedless of their fine robes, every member of their group, including Bastien and Lady Zabini, knelt humbly on the stone floor.

“Without you we are hollow, empty,” Bastien murmured, his voice low and reverent. Harry had to strain to hear him. “We ask that you gift us with your presence, boosting us and revitalizing us, strengthening us and granting us knowledge and power.”

Following everyone’s lead, Harry knelt forward even more, his forehead nearly brushing the cold flagstones. He could hear the hiss of the torches, the flickering shadows they cast on the dark ground growing even more at Bastien’s words.

“ _ Exaudio nobis _ ,” Bastien said. He paused, letting the other members of the circle repeat the words. 

“ _ Annuo vis vires, tutela, sapientia _ .”

Harry murmured the unfamiliar words, his brain working feverishly to sort out the Latin.

_ “Augmentum ingenium. Augmentum esse. Augmentum potestas.” _

Harry felt warmth growing inside him as he repeated the words. He nearly gasped aloud when the others began to sit up, their faces and any other visible skin glowing a faint gold. He scrambled to his feet, not nearly as gracefully as Draco beside him.

“We thank you guardian, protector, teacher,” Bastien said, his voice tinged with the awe that everyone in the circle felt. Harry couldn’t describe it; he felt whole and content, his body thrumming from the energy that shot through him as their spells had ended. He felt like magic itself had blessed him. “May we always be able to call upon your guidance to help us manage our gifts. As we will, so mote it be.”

Harry echoed the final words along with everyone else, slightly sad to see that the otherworldly glow had subsided, leaving them all flushed with excitement in faint firelight from the torches, which had returned to a normal height.

Draco turned to Harry, grinning madly. 

“ _ That _ is the reason the Muggle-born should be initiated into the ancient ways. You’ll find your magic is stronger. Spells will come easier, your reflexes will be faster,” he said, leaning in closer. 

Harry managed a startled laugh, still marveling at the riot of sensations the ritual had unleashed in him. Draco had explained that wild magic was everywhere, imbedded in most of the natural world around them. The ritual called to that power – Mother Nature herself, for lack of a better descriptor, Draco had said – and invited it in. It didn’t harm the store of wild magic loose in the world; in fact, it actually helped the usually dormant magic to regenerate and thrive. The rituals were only effective on the solstices and equinoxes, when the ambient wild magic around them was let loose for a brief period. The power absorbed wasn’t enough to truly boost the witch or wizard’s level of magic, Draco had explained when Harry worried aloud about the consequences of those who were Dark using the ritual. Rather, the influx of foreign magic stimulated the person’s own dormant store of typically untouched magical reserves, bringing that wizard or witch closer to his or her full potential. Without the occasional prod the rituals provided, most witches and wizards let a majority of their magic lie dormant, with disastrous results. 

“Magic is like a muscle, Harry,” Draco had patiently explained. “It withers and fades with disuse, diminishing that person’s magical core. The result is weaker magic in each generation, which could ultimately see the death of the magical community as we know it.”

Harry let the remembered conversation fade to the back of his consciousness, concentrating on enjoying the moment as much as he could. He felt powerful and alive – like nothing was beyond his reach.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you please,” Lady Zabini said with a clap of her hands, cutting through the murmur of conversation on the terrace. “Again I thank you for being a part of our Midsummer festivities. The second part of our celebration is a lesser known ritual that will bring blessings of a different sort. If you would please stand with your partner –”

She directed them, placing Pansy and Neville directly across from Harry and Draco and grouping the other two couples nearby.

“Wait,” Harry whispered, his eyes narrowing as he took in their positions. “Compass points. An earth magic ceremony?”

Draco grinned, proud of Harry’s deduction. He was beginning to think more like a trained wizard instead of a hapless boy. The war had made Harry more vigilant about his surroundings, while the last few weeks of classical training had opened his eyes to some of the more salient parts of spell casting that had never been explained in their regular classes.

“Yes,” he answered, joining hands with Harry at Lady Zabini’s instruction. He pulled the dark-haired boy closer, knowing the ritual would make both of them unsteady on their feet. Any support they could lend each other increased the chances of them remaining standing.

Hermione narrowed her eyes when she realized Lady Zabini, Bastien and his wife were off to the side. She, too, had worked out the significance of their groupings, though she still didn’t understand what ritual the woman planned to invoke.

“This Midsummer we have a rare opportunity before us to garner a different sort of blessing than is traditional,” she said, ignoring the smirk on Bastien’s face. Blaise and Draco had reigned in their mirth better, but their lips still twitched.

“Young love – new love – is a blessed thing. The ancient magics that swirl around important wizarding rites like engagement and marriage can be harnessed on days such as this, which is what we shall do tonight.”

Hermione frowned. She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of Lady Zabini’s plan, nor did she understand why she and Theo were being included. She’d read about rituals like this one – and she was excited to be able to witness it, since they were very rare – but she still wondered why she was there. They weren’t engaged or married. Entering into a ritual without the proper elements like this was highly inadvisable, and she was just about to open her mouth and say so when the tall woman continued.

“We have before us the elements needed for a ritual blessing to help a wanderer on the path of life find true love,” she said, ignoring the shocked looks on her sons’ faces. They’d known what the ritual was, but not what their mother sought. It had never been her intent before to find love, merely to make politically and financially beneficial unions. The Zabini estate was secure now, though, and ready to pass into the hands of her eldest son and heir. She wanted something more, driven by the sight of her boys finding their own well-matched mates. 

“Before me stand five sets of soul mates, one bonded in matrimony and the others engaged between Midwinter and Midsummer. Bastien and Francisca, if you would step to the center?”

The newlyweds made their way to the center point of the circle, their hands tightly clasped. 

“Bastien Zabini and Francisca Zabini, bonded in matrimony by the laws of our culture and those of our forbearers, do you consent to this ritual?”

All eyes were on the young couple as they nodded solemnly. “We do.”

“As the anchor point of our circle, the stability that keeps us grounded, we welcome you.”

“ _ Desideratus _ ,” the rest intoned, with Harry, Hermione and Hannah lagging behind by mere seconds as they tried to get their bearings on what was happening.

“Neville Longbottom and Pansy Parkinson, bonded by the promise of matrimony by the laws of our culture and those of our forbearers, do you consent to this ritual?”

Two dark heads bent together in whispered conversation. Moments later, both straightened, standing tall and proud. “We do.”

“As the north point to our circle and representatives of the element earth, the power and strength that nurture us all, we welcome you.”

_ “Desideratus,” _ everyone replied together.

“Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, bonded by the promise of matrimony by the laws of our culture and those of our forbearers, do you consent to this ritual?”

The two didn’t take the time to talk it over as Pansy and Neville had; Draco because he knew the ritual well and Harry because of his Gryffindorish tendency to jump straight into situations based on his gut feeling.

“We do.”

“As the south point of our circle and representatives of the element fire, the passion and volatility that reside in all of us, we welcome you.”

“ _ Desideratus.” _

“Blaise Zabini and Hannah Abbott, bonded by the promise of matrimony by the laws of our culture and those of our forbearers, do you consent to this ritual?”

Hannah’s hand tightened in Blaise’s but the small blonde did not hesitate. Blaise was her intended, and this was his family. If there was something she could do to help Lady Zabini, she would. Besides, she trusted Blaise. His family would allow no harm to come to her.

“We do.”

“As the east point to our circle and representatives of the element air, that which sustains us, we welcome you.”

“ _ Desideratus.” _

Lady Zabini turned to the last couple in the group, so caught up in the swirling magics of the ritual that she did not notice Hermione’s pale face or the sweat on Theo’s brow. Unlike the others, Theo had an arm draped carefully around her waist as though anchoring her in place.

“Theodore Nott and Hermione Granger, bonded by the promise of matrimony by the laws of our culture and those of our forbearers, do you consent to this ritual?”

Hermione’s pale face drained even more, her hands suddenly clammy as they fisted at her sides. She resisted the urge to wipe them against her delicate silk dress, the manners her mother had drilled into her over every summer holiday kicking in despite her shock.

Engaged? They were  _ engaged _ ?

All eyes were on them as the protracted silence drew on. Though they knew they should, no one looked away when Theo ducked his head, his lips resting against Hermione’s ear.

“Hermione –”

“Engaged?” Her voice was shaky with nerves and rage, all held bottled tightly inside. No matter how she felt about Theo at the moment, she did not want to make spectacle of herself or ruin Lady Zabini’s ceremony.

“We are, but –”

“ _ Engaged _ ?” her furious whisper didn’t carry any far enough for anyone else to hear, but their friends had no problem guessing what they were talking about. It had been a topic of hushed conversation ever since Theo had asked her to move in, and she had accepted. They’d all known it would come to a head sooner or later.

“Yes,” he answered, his voice low but not contrite. He was sorry she’d found out this way – he swore to  _ kill _ Blaise, and likely Draco, too, since he was sure they’d known in advance what was going to happen tonight – but not sorry they were engaged. He loved her, and if enough pieces of him survived after Hermione’s tightly held control snapped he’d marry her on her terms, be it in two weeks or two years. “I can explain –”

Hermione lifted her head, her cheeks now blazing with color. There had been no gasps of surprise at Lady Zabini’s words, so she assumed everyone else had known about the engagement. She’d been made a fool of, but that was not Lady Zabini’s fault. It was Theo’s, and they  _ would _ have words about it later.

“We do.”

Theo blinked owlishly at Hermione’s words. Her voice had been calm and steady, no hint of the impending explosion he’d been braced for earlier. Her posture was ramrod straight, and he could feel the tension running through her. He’d been granted a brief reprieve, but he was Slytherin enough to know it wouldn’t last. He could only hope that the impact of the ritual would help absorb and redirect some of her rage.

Lady Zabini paused, her canny gaze fixed on the couple. The ritual would not work if the participants were not truly in love. She’d been surprised that the girl hadn’t known about the engagement – that much had been clear as their whispered conversation had progressed. Her willingness to proceed with the ceremony showed a level of courage and fortitude the woman had not expected from a Muggle-born. After a few more beats of silence, she spoke up.

“As the west point to our circle and representatives of the element water, that which cleanses and nourishes our souls, we welcome you.”

_ “Desideratus.” _

As the last couple was welcomed into the circle a band of bright white light encircled their feet, forming a protective ring around them. Lady Zabini stood outside it, the rich light sparkling as it reflected off her dark eyes.

“We ask for blessings from the elements to guide these young lovers along their paths. May the energy of their collective presence on this holy day bolster their ties and offer this witch direction in her quest for eternal love. As I will, so mote it be. Peace and prosperity, my children.”

Harry wasn’t prepared for the white-hot bolt of desire that shot through him as Lady Zabini closed the circle. The energy he had felt humming around them was now  _ inside _ him, but the feeling was completely different from the one he’d experienced earlier with the Midsummer ritual. He pressed himself against Draco, irrationally angry at the layers of fabric that separated them. He could feel his need for Draco like a physical presence in his mind, directing his actions and demanding he lay his claim to his mate.

The Gryffindor didn’t even notice when Draco wrapped his arms around him and Apparated them back to their suite. Apparition was normally restricted on the grounds of any old manor or estate, but he knew Lady Zabini would have relaxed the controls for the evening. The effects of the ritual she had just conducted were well documented, despite the rarity of the ceremony. His last conscious thought before Harry tackled him was a fond wish that the woman find everything she was looking for.

The other couples were similarly engaged in different parts of the estate; everyone but Theo and Hermione had managed to Apparate away before succumbing to the primal urges the ceremony induced. They remained on the terrace, in full view of anyone inside who cared to look, arguing viciously with each other.

“– thinking? It’s unconscionable. How could you trick me into an engagement, Theo,  _ knowing _ how I felt about it?”

Hermione was gripping the cold stone wall, the bite of the rough rock helping her keep her head. She wanted nothing more than to whirl around and fall into Theo’s arms, but her iron-clad will had her staring out over the darkened river instead.

“Hermione, I’m –”

She shook her head, fighting hard to dispel the tears that were threatening. She loved Theo, and she knew he loved her. But to breach her trust in such a way –it was too much to deal with while she was so emotionally charged from the rituals they’d just taken part in. She didn’t want to say something she’d later regret, or goad him into doing the same. 

“I’ve got to go.”

She Disapparated with a crack, startling the house-elf who had come out to herd them back indoors for a calming cup of tea with Lady Zabini.

“– sorry,” Theo finished, his heart aching as he stared at the now empty spot where she’d been standing. 


	7. Chapter 7

Luna wasn’t startled to find Hermione sleeping on her sofa in a rumpled set of what looked like extremely expensive dress robes. She merely tiptoed around her, deciding it was best to get a pot of coffee started before waking the Gryffindor. As she waited for it to brew, Luna studied the light blue silk and deep blue sapphires the girl was wearing. 

“Morning,” Luna said casually, settling herself on the sofa next to Hermione, taking care not to sit on her robes. She handed the tired girl a steaming mug, nodding at her encouragingly. “You found out about the engagement, then?”

Hermione’s lips drew together tightly, her normally warm brown eyes turning cold.

“So you knew about that as well, did you?” she spat, the muscles in her jaw twitching as she clenched her teeth together painfully. “I suppose it was a grand joke. Look at the stupid Mudblood, engaged and she doesn’t even know it!”

Luna shook her head, and Hermione noticed the normally dreamy girl wasn’t wearing her radish earrings. Somehow it made her easier to take seriously.

“Not at all,” she said simply, taking a quick sip of her own sweetened coffee. She preferred tea, but she knew Hermione turned to coffee in times of emotional upset. This definitely qualified. “Not to mention the fact that no one here would call you a Mudblood.”

Luna studied her carefully, watching Hermione take a reluctant sip from the mug in her own hands. She saw the surprise in Hermione’s eyes at finding coffee in the cup, mixed with two sugars and a dash of cream, just the way she liked it. Luna nearly smirked. She could easily have been a Slytherin, and she knew it. The crazy antics that had earned her the name Loony Lovegood were a blend of acting and retreating from the world; she’d have gone mad like her mother years ago if she hadn’t erected careful mental shields. 

“Teacher’s pet, brown-noser, know-it-all, good-two-shoes –” Luna broke off with a smile “well, not that last one, at least not lately. At any rate, of all the things your friends could call you, Mudblood or stupid definitely don’t make the list.”

Hermione took another sip of coffee and Luna let the girl sit in silence for a few moments. She hadn’t missed the glaze of tears in Hermione’s eyes, nor the way the brown-haired girl had steeled herself against them.

“That’s exactly why you were a good fit for the water element,” Luna said in an off-hand manner, her unusually focused blue eyes pinned on Hermione’s robes. “You and Theo both have very fluid personalities. You adapt to the unexpected well.”

Deciding her conversation with Luna had surpassed odd long ago, Hermione chose not to pursue the fact that Luna apparently knew all about the ritual they had performed the night before. She wasn’t surprised, not really. Hermione knew much of Luna’s lunacy, for want of a better word, was an act. She rather suspected the girl used the façade to hide some ability or gift, but she hadn’t figured out what yet. Though Luna’s comments did give her a bit more to go on.  _ Could she possibly be some sort of Seer?  _ Hermione wondered, her brows drawing together as she looked at the blonde.

“Yes and no,” Luna said, looking completely unconcerned. “I am, but I am not.”

Hermione’s frown grew as she tried to puzzle out Luna’s cryptic words.  _ Did she really just pluck a question out of my head? _ she wondered, worried at the implications.

“Not exactly,” Luna answered cheerfully, taking another sip of her coffee before placing it on the low table in front of them. She folded her legs underneath her, leaning in so she could be sure Hermione’s attention was focused on her. “None of this is a surprise, Hermione.”

Hermione stiffened, but Luna wouldn’t be deterred.

“You know the customs of the wizarding world. You knew what it meant when you agreed to move in with Theo, you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself,” she continued gently. “I know. You’re not ‘that girl’. You aren’t sure you want marriage at all, let alone straightaway after finishing school. Education, career, academic acknowledgement, that’s what’s important to Hermione Granger.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Luna barreled on ahead, certain that the path she was following was the right one. Several had presented themselves, and loath as Luna was to get involved, she felt she was actually meant to be Hermione’s guide this time.

“Those things are important to Hermione Granger-Nott as well. Her husband is no slouch, either. He’ll earn several degrees and make important discoveries that advance both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, as will you. Together you’ll be powerful team. Apart,” Luna’s eyes became unfocused, and Hermione recoiled slightly, wondering exactly what her blonde friend was seeing. “Apart your future is not so defined.”

Luna blinked several times, clearing her head. Trying to follow paths not yet taken was difficult business, which is why she took careful precautions to guard against it most of the time. This was important, though, and worth a bit of mental muddiness.

“Hermione,” she said, her blue gaze clear once more. “You have no faith in the art of Divination, as well you shouldn’t. And you certainly can’t be expected to have faith in me. But have faith in yourself. The answers are all inside you. Your true path is certain. You should embrace it instead of running from because of baseless fears.”

Hermione swallowed, a cold chill running down her spine at Luna’s words. Her tone was sharp; there was no trace of the dreamy vagueness with which she normally spoke. The brown-haired witch wondered if she was finally getting to see the real Luna Lovegood, and she was a bit scared to truly consider what that meant.  _ Was _ Luna a Seer of some sort? Was she what Seamus’ grandmother called touched, existing in some half-realm between the reality of the world and somewhere else?

“It’s none of your concern,” Luna answered calmly, collecting Hermione’s long-discarded mug of cooling coffee. The directness of her gaze was already fading as she let mind slip back behind its defenses. “Truly.”

Hermione nodded, surprising herself by pulling the smaller blonde into a fierce hug before stepping back and Disapparating.

Luna shook her head at the empty space Hermione had occupied only a moment before. She continued on to the kitchen, placing the dirty dishes in the sink and murmuring softly to herself about Nargles.

***

Theo jumped when the silence of the room was broken by the sharp crack of Apparition. He spun quickly, his heart clenching when he saw Hermione standing in the middle of their suite. Her ruined dress robes flowed around her, the silk irreparably crushed by her night on Luna’s sofa. His own hung slightly creased but presentably around his lanky frame, since he’d spent the night pacing their generous suite after her sudden disappearance.

“Hermione,” he rasped, his throat tight with emotion. Was she here to formally end things? To forgive him? “Hermione, I –”

“Are a sneaky, underhanded bastard,” she cut in, advancing on him slowly. “I’m sorry. I lost my head. I wish you’d warned me, but that’s not an excuse. I’m sorry.”

Theo was shell-shocked, frozen in place. He’d expected bitter accusations, not apologies. 

“I don’t deserve it,” he answered, his muscles relaxing slightly as he forced himself to move forward, wrapping his arms around her. “Your apologies. I-I should have told you. It was the wrong way to handle things. It was just – I wanted it, that future with you. And I wanted to do it right. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Hermione felt a heavy weight lift from her shoulders, and she knew she had Luna to thank for it. The terror she always felt from having too many choices, too many options laid out in front of her was suddenly gone. She saw one future, one choice. 

“Theo,” she said softly, burying her tear-stained face in his robes. 

***

A timid house-elf squeezed between Draco and Harry, Levitating a large platter of bacon and eggs onto the table. The magics they had worked – and the after-effects of the ritual – the night before had left them all ravenously hungry, and the Zabini elves had planned well for it.

“Is your mum not joining us?” Harry asked, earning himself a slap on the wrist from Draco for waving a sausage-laden fork in Blaise’s direction as he spoke.

“No,” he answered, smirking at the glare Draco was shooting the oblivious green-eyed wizard. “She’s already gone. The second part of the blessing ritual we performed last night is a two-month spiritual journey.”

“Though she’s likely to spend the two months cruising for available men,” Bastien added, rolling his eyes at his brother.

Pansy made a reproachful sound, shaking her head at the comment.

“The ritual wouldn’t have worked if she wasn’t serious in her intentions,” she pointed out, flushing slightly as she remembered just how well the ceremony  _ had _ worked. “I think you boys may have a new daddy soon.”

Blaise laughed, making a soft gagging sound at Pansy’s words. 

“We hardly need an ancient ritual to cause  _ that _ ,” he sniped, grimacing when Hannah smacked him on the arm. “Seriously. Mum has married scads of men, and none of them have ever been serious. Even our father.”

Bastien nodded as he chewed his toast, ignoring the censorious glare his wife sent at him. Their mother had never been truly in love with any of the men she’d married. Lady Zabini approached marriage like a business transaction, and it had worked very well for their family.

“Perhaps it just took her awhile to realize she needed something more,” Hermione said from the doorway, startling everyone in the room. 

Theo had a possessive arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Blaise nearly sighed in relief. He and Bastien had felt the wards part for her when she left the night before, and though he knew she was back he had no way of knowing if they’d patched things up or not. It looked like they had.

***

The week after Midsummer was an awkward one. Hermione had surprised everyone by moving in with Luna after returning from the Zabini estate, despite the fact that she and Theo had made up. 

“It’s not so different from the wizarding world, actually,” Dean explained at lunch a few days after the move. “Many families take a traditional approach to engagement, meaning the man has to ask the woman’s father for his permission to propose.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose, her forkful of salad pausing half-way to her mouth.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, darting a glance down the table toward Hermione, who was sitting between Harry and Draco. “She’s already accepted his proposal. It’s already recorded at the Ministry. What’s the point of making him ask her father for permission when it’s already done?”

She flinched when she saw Theo slide into the seat beside her with an apple and a sandwich. He’d been spending most of his free periods in the library reading up on Muggle traditions to prepare himself for his tea with the Grangers next week.

“I’d rather not start out our marriage with her parents hating me, thanks,” he said wryly, his smirk making it clear he wasn’t offended. “They know nothing of wizarding traditions, nor do they know we moved in together already. We’ll do it the proper way, and then Hermione will feel better about it and her father won’t come after me with a gum.”

Dean blinked, staring at Theo in confusion.

“Gum?”

Theo nodded, swallowing his bite of apple. 

“You know, that Muggle device that acts like the Cavum Curse?” 

Ginny’s eyes went wide. She had no idea Muggles could mimic the Dark curse that punched holes through skin and bone. She’d seen several Death Eaters use the curse during the final battle, and it had been a horrific sight.

“Ah,” Dean said, his brow clearing. “A  _ gun _ . I don’t think you have to worry about Hermione’s father having a gun, Theo.”

The Slytherin looked relieved, focusing his attention on what was left of his lunch.

“He’s a dentist. He’d be more likely to use a drill.”

***

“I can’t believe  _ this _ is what Muggles think magic is about,” Draco whispered, his eyes riveted on the film that was their Muggle Studies homework for the night. The entire class was gathered in a transformed Great Hall, sitting on sofas and watching  _ The Craft _ on an enlarged screen at the front of the room.

Hermione laughed, tossing a handful of popcorn at him over the back of the sofa.

“You’re just jealous that there are no wizards in it, only witches,” she teased, giggling when Draco frantically batted the pieces of popcorn out of his hair.

“You got butter in my hair!” he growled, launching a few of the salvaged pieces back at her. “And I’m  _ not _ jealous. As if I’d want to be anything like them. Those stupid rituals, and that make-up! Is she a witch or an Inferi?” He gave a mock shudder, drawing a laugh from Ginny and Luna, who were sitting nearby. 

“It’s not supposed to be realistic, Draco,” Harry chided, rolling his eyes. “I’d be more worried if it  _ was. _ That would mean the Secrecy Act isn’t working.”

“Oh, shut up, Potter,” Draco replied, resettling the parchment he was taking notes on in his lap. They were meant to be cataloguing the Muggle attitude toward magic in the movie, as well as the discrepancies between the way magic was portrayed and how it actually worked. 

“Why don’t you shut me up, Malfoy?” Harry murmured, leaning over to nip at Draco’s ear.

“Harry,” Draco whined, a familiar heat shooting through his stomach. They were in the middle of the Great Hall, for Merlin’s sake!

“Draco,” Harry answered, erecting discreet Notice-Me-Not and Silencing spells around their sofa. Hermione snickered; she and Ginny were inside the bounds of the spell, since they were both touching the sofa the boys were sitting on.

“Harry,” Draco said again, the name sounding more like a hiss as Harry slid his hand down the front of Draco’s trousers, his fingers molding themselves around Draco’s hardening cock. He looked around wildly, surprised that no one had turned to look at them.

“Spells,” Harry muttered, his breath hot against Draco’s ear as he bent to lick and kiss his neck, sharp teeth scraping against the tender skin at Draco’s hairline.

Draco gasped when Harry began to stroke him, the movement constricted by his still-fastened trousers. It felt illicit and wrong and very, very good. 

“Don’t stop,” he whimpered, burrowing his face into Harry’s neck as the strokes started to get harder. He couldn’t believe Harry was wanking him off in the middle of the crowded Great Hall, but he wasn’t about to stop him, either.

Harry let the flat of his thumb skim over the weeping head of Draco’s cock on the next stroke, sliding easily against the velvety skin. It was enough to send the blond over the edge, and he covered Draco’s mouth with his own, swallowing down the sounds of the boy’s climax in a rough kiss.

Draco sank down against the back of the sofa, panting lightly as he struggled to regain his composure. He was sure the spells had held, but he also knew it wouldn’t be too long before someone – likely one of their friends, but still – figured out what was going on. He jumped slightly when Harry pulled his hand out of his trousers, tugging on the waistband to pull them up where they’d ridden down. A muttered Cleaning Charm erased all evidence of their amusements, leaving their flushed faces and heavy breathing as the only clue as to what they’d just gotten up to moments before.

“Should I –” Harry shook his head, cutting Draco’s words off. He shot the blond a guilty smirk before pulling his hand from his own trousers. Draco grinned. “Well, then.”

“Since you’re all sorted, maybe you could lift the spell so we can finish watching the film?” Hermione said archly, startling both boys.

Ginny giggled, reaching across their legs to swat at Hermione’s shoulder.

“You bint,” she teased, wrinkling her nose. “They might not have been done. You might have cheated us out of a show!”

Hermione laughed, part of her noting that Harry didn’t look entirely surprised that they’d witnessed their little indiscretion. She raised an eyebrow when he raised his eyebrows, the glint in his eye making it clear that even if he hadn’t known, he certainly wasn’t bothered by it.

“I dare say that was more magical than the stupid film,” Draco sniffed, raising his hands in defense when both Ginny and Hermione pelted him with popcorn.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry’s face was buried in the latest issue of the  _ Daily Prophet _ when Draco settled in next to him for lunch. They only shared a few classes, so they didn’t get to see each other that often during the day. Harry was expecting a kiss or at least some sort of acknowledgement, so he was startled into dropping the paper when Draco spoke.

“Fuck.”

Harry heard Ginny snicker across the table, his head rising slowly as he followed both of their gazes to the head table. The normal assortment of teachers were seated there, with one notable exception. One notable  _ blonde _ exception.

“Draco?” Harry asked, the tension clear in his voice. 

“Yes?” the blond answered innocently, turning on his most winning smile.

“When you said we’d be sorting out furniture for the house this afternoon after classes, did you fail to mention anything?”

Hermione’s quiet laugh could be heard over Draco’s heavy silence. She and Theo were leaving themselves after their Wards and Home Protections class, and the stress of introducing her accidental fiancé to her parents had been weighing heavily on both her and Theo all week. It was fun to watch someone else struggle for a bit.

“No, I don’t think so,” Draco said slowly, forcing his eyes not to wander to his mother’s regal figure at the head table. “Pack for one night away, bring the sketches of the house. I’m certain that was it.”

Harry gritted his teeth, raising the paper once more and blocking everyone else out. Draco took a sip of pumpkin juice, running over his last conversation with his mother in his mind. He knew they’d be meeting her later that day to look at furniture – he’d figured it would be best to tell Harry that part after they were already en route – but he had no clue why she was at Hogwarts.

He continued to puzzle over it, his face carefully impassive, until Hermione slipped him her Wizarding Traditions syllabus. His answer was right there on the parchment in bold black ink; the class was simulating a formal tea that afternoon. Draco closed his eyes, sending up a silent prayer that his suspicions were wrong.

***

“I thought you had a potion in Stasis you needed to get back to,” Harry said irritably when Draco joined the small group heading out for their next class. The blond hadn’t offered any explanation for the elder Malfoy’s presence at Hogwarts.

“I thought I’d walk you over,” Draco replied, draping an arm over Harry’s shoulder.

“I  _ did _ have quite a shock at lunch, Malfoy, but I think I can find my way to class on my own. Thanks ever so much for your concern.”

Ginny and Dean laughed outright at the downright Malfoyish tone of Harry’s rebuke, leaving Hermione and Ron snickering behind their hands. They didn’t want to get in Harry’s way when he was miffed like this – they’d been on the receiving end of enough tantrums to recognize one brewing.

“Is it so shocking that I’d want to spend a little more time with the love of my life?” Draco responded, his voice taking on a wounded tone.

“Frankly, yes,” Hermione said wryly, earning herself a glare from Draco. “Particularly when it coincides with a surprise visit from your mother.”

Harry looked between the two of them, his eyes narrowed.

“What do you know?” he asked Hermione, noticing the girl’s barely hidden grin.

“Nothing you won’t have worked out in the next two seconds,” she said nonchalantly, pushing the door to their classroom open and revealing the woman in question, who was instructing a small army of unfamiliar house-elves laying out tea.

“Oh,” Harry whispered, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of his lungs.

“I’m so sorry,” Draco breathed in his ear, immediately contrite once his worst fear had been confirmed. Narcissa Malfoy had come to Hogwarts to teach etiquette, and it couldn’t mean anything good for Harry. “I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea. I didn’t know, not until I saw her here.”

Harry nodded woodenly, bravely stepping into the transformed classroom. Small tables laid with intricate lace linens and delicate china had taken the place of their normal desks and chairs. Draco allowed himself a smidgen of hope; perhaps if the students were grouped together like this his mother wouldn’t actually have any real contact with Harry. Perhaps – 

“Seating assignments can be found on the board,” Narcissa said sharply, pointing her wand at the blank expanse of chalkboard and nodding when names began to appear in groups of three or four. She glanced up, taking note of her son and future son-in-law hovering just inside the doorway.

“You are not a student in this class, Mr. Malfoy, so I must ask that you leave. Mr. Potter,” she drawled, sending a shiver of fear down both Harry and Draco’s spines, “you will sit with me.”

***

Between Draco’s nervous twittering about Harry being left alone – though Blaise was quick to point out that as part of a class of nearly a dozen, Harry was not  _ alone _ – with his mother and Theo sweating about his upcoming meeting with the Grangers and their assortment of drills, it was a miracle the volatile potion Draco was working on hadn’t exploded. Yet.

“For Merlin’s sake, Draco!” Blaise screamed, grabbing the vial of powdered Entrumpment horn the blond had been about to add to the roiling mixture in the cauldron. 

“That’s enough! No more today,” Blaise said firmly, lifting his wand and Vanishing the contents of the cauldron. Galleons of expensive and rare ingredients, the product of hours and hours of work, disappeared.

“Damn it, Blaise,” Draco growled, shoving the now-empty cauldron off the low workspace. “What the hell?”

Theo was still lost in his own world of imagined torture, his hand absently rubbing against his jaw. Blaise’s anger flared, and he made a mental note to have a long chat with Dean Thomas sometime in the near future. The boy had been baiting Theo for days with stories of excruciatingly painful dental procedures and thinly veiled warnings about how dangerous Muggle fathers could be when they became protective of their daughters. 

“Nothing, other than you two dolts are doing your best to kill us all. You’ve already ruined the potion – don’t look at me like that, Draco, it’s true – a few steps back, and since you just tried to add Entrumpment horn instead of bicorn horn, I think it’s safe to say we need to stop for the day.”

Draco paled, his grey eyes shifting back to the assortment of vials on the worktable. Blaise was right – he’d just tried to add a highly explosive ingredient that would most certainly have caused a violent reaction with the acidic ingredients already in the cauldron.

The blond closed his eyes, his fingers steepled against his forehead.

“I apologize, Blaise, Theo” he said quietly, flicking a glance over at Theo, who was fairly vibrating with nervous energy. “I shouldn’t have attempted brewing the potion when I was so distracted.”

Blaise nodded, slinging an arm around both Draco and Theo’s shoulders and hugging the two boys close. 

“I have an idea. Why don’t we head down to Hogsmeade and take out a little insurance for later in the day?”

The darker wizard laughed at their quizzical expressions, guiding them toward the door.

“Gifts, gentlemen. They’re always appropriate in situations such as these.”

***

“– which is when we began to notice something was amiss. We simply couldn’t work it out, until we realized it was a  _ tea towel _ . He was dressed as a house-elf!”

Harry had to gasp for breath as he laughed, all nervousness about spending the class with Narcissa, as she’d insisted he call her, long gone. 

“More tea, darling?”

Harry could only nod, holding his cup out for Narcissa to refill. She’d been right about the jasmine green tea blend, too. It was delicious and fragrant; he’d definitely have to add that to the shopping list for their new pantry.

She’d been sharing embarrassing stories about both Draco and Lucius for the entire period, making Harry feel very at ease. How could he feel intimidated by a man who had once gotten so drunk at a party that he’d Apparated to the wrong coordinates, landing in a heap of horse dung in the Malfoy stables instead of in his own bedroom? Narcissa had discovered him there, sleeping soundly, in the morning. And being the Slytherin that she was, she’d taken photos, which she’d been all too happy to share with her soon-to-be son-in-law. He couldn’t even be mad at Draco anymore – not when he found out that Narcissa’s visit truly had been a surprise to her son. And definitely not after finding out that Draco had dressed as a house-elf for one of the infamous Malfoy Halloween balls when he was four. The photo of the tiny boy wrapped in nothing but a tea towel standing amid hundreds of well-dressed guests was too cute.

“I do believe I’ve been neglecting the class, Harry,” Narcissa said, putting her own cup down and rising to make her rounds through the room again. 

She’d hovered around the half a dozen tables from time to time, offering advice and gentle criticisms on everything from conversation topics to table manners. Each time she’d returned to the table with another deliciously witty remark or story for Harry, working in small rebukes about his table manners as well whenever necessary. Everyone in the class was surprised to admit they were thoroughly enjoying their afternoon with Lady Narcissa Malfoy.

Narcissa returned to the head of the classroom, clapping her hands together delicately to gain everyone’s attention. More than a dozen heads turned politely toward her, the rattle of tea cups meeting saucers heard throughout the room. In just over an hour, she had managed to impart quite a few lessons in proper manners, and it showed.

“Thank you for your attention and cooperation, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, bowing her head when a spontaneous round of applause – started by Harry and Hermione – rang through the room. “It has been a pleasure to have tea with you this afternoon, and I look forward to several more instances like this one in the future where we can share each others’ company.”

Warm smiles met hers as she looked around the room, pleased with what she’d accomplished in such a short amount of time.

“Class dismissed.”

***

Draco leaned forward, an expression of absolute horror on his face.

“Are they _ clapping _ ?” he murmured, the worry clear in his stormy grey eyes. Blaise and Theo shared a significant glance, wondering as Draco was if something horrible had befallen Lady Malfoy. Why else would the class be clapping?

“You don’t think –” Draco let the sentence hang, unwilling to accuse Harry of the nefarious acts he was imagining. Had they somehow disarmed her? Was she in danger? He knew how much his parents terrified Harry, but he doubted his fiancé would take an active role in attacking or embarrassing her. But would he intervene?

Blaise’s response was lost as the door swung open, sending the three boys stumbling into the hallway as a stream of students filed out. Draco’s distress only grew when he noticed Harry and Hermione weren’t among them. He and Theo waited impatiently for the doorway to clear, pushing their way past the flow of students to get inside. They were both shocked to see Narcissa Malfoy sitting at a table with Harry and Hermione, all three of them laughing uproariously at something.

“There you are, darling,” Narcissa cooed when she saw them approach, holding out her hand for Draco to grasp. She pulled him closer, forcing him to bend so she could press a kiss against his cheek. “And Theo. How lovely to see you, too, dear.”

Narcissa let go of Draco’s hand, waving Blaise in from the doorway. Three extra chairs appeared around their small table, along with tea service for the newcomers.

“Hermione was just telling me about her parents, Theo,” Narcissa said, her blue eyes sparkling. “They sound like such  _ interesting _ people.”

***

Harry looked around the dimly lit room, coughing slightly from the dust particles buzzing through the air. When Draco had said they were going furniture shopping, he’d expected, well,  _ shopping  _ to be involved.

“This is a lovely Louis XVI coffee table,” Narcissa said, her eyes narrowed as she studied the slightly tarnished table in front of her.

“I’d like something less polished,” Draco said from across the room, where he was currently testing out the doors on a walnut panetiere cupboard. 

Narcissa nodded, replacing the cover on the antique table with a flick of her wand and moving on. Harry moved about in a daze, overwhelmed at the sheer number of sheet-covered pieces that were crowded into the extremely large room. 

“Oh, perfect!” Narcissa cried, snapping the dusty white sheet off a low French chestnut coffee table. Draco hurried to her side, running an appreciative hand over the aged patina of the butter-soft wood. 

“Definitely,” he said, a simple wand movement turning the previously white cover orange. He draped it over the table, already moving on to the next piece.

Harry stumbled, tripping over a fragile-looking sofa that he was sure was worth more than the house they’d just bought. He straightened its cover, skulking along until he was shadowing Draco. He had no idea why his presence was necessary; the minute they’d arrived, Draco and Narcissa had taken off to opposite sides of the room, unveiling furniture with an eagerness that bordered on insanity.

“A buffet, do you think?” Draco asked, and Harry wisely kept his mouth shut. He had no idea what the large piece of furniture the blond was considering was for, and anyway, he knew the question was directed at Narcissa, not him.

“Too formal,” she said, waving dismissively. “You need a farmhouse table. Something large enough to fit your friends around at large gatherings, but old enough to have some character.”

Harry nearly stumbled again out of shock when Lucius chimed in. He’d never heard the man enter the room. He colored instantly, his hand subconsciously drawn to his pocket. He traced the outline of the gift Draco had given him earlier as an apology. He imagined he could feel it burning through the thin material of his trousers, heating against his leg. He’d die, absolutely die, if Draco’s father knew it was there. 

“Look in the east corner, Draco. I seem to remember my grandfather purchasing a rather large oak table to furnish his mistress’ home. Grandmother found out about it and set fire to the house, but not before removing any valuable furniture. It was all moved up here, I’d imagine.”

Draco motioned Harry over, and together they scoured the east corner of the attic for the large table Lucius had suggested. It turned out to be pine, not oak, but it was beautifully scarred and weathered, and Draco declared it perfect for their kitchen.

Harry took a steadying breath, wiling himself to stay calm. The last thing he’d expected when he and Draco had Apparated away earlier that afternoon was to end up spending the weekend at Malfoy Manor. Draco and Narcissa both insisted that Malfoys do not  _ buy _ furniture, at least not new furniture like Harry had envisioned. Apparently owning anything that was less than one hundred years old was vulgar. The statement had filled him with dread – no quick trip to IKEA for them, then. He’d had no idea what to expect when Narcissa led them upstairs to the attic, though knowing the Malfoy family’s penchant for excess, he should have been able to guess. A veritable fortune of antique furniture awaited them, categorized by type and filed away under protective charms and sheets. They’d been up there for hours.

“There’s a Victorian partners desk somewhere up here that would be perfect for your study,” Lucius suggested, making Harry wonder what exactly the man was up to. He’d never been entirely accepting of Draco’s sexuality, let alone his relationship with The Boy Who Lived. 

“We already found that,” Draco said, nodding to an orange-sheeted lump across the room. “You’re right. It will be perfect in the study, since it’s too small a space for two desks.”

Harry wandered aimlessly for the next twenty minutes, watching with detached amusement as the Malfoy patriarch joined in the furniture search with undisguised eagerness. They’d managed to secure several sets of pine book cases, a bureau for each of them and several chests of drawers in that time, and Harry couldn’t help but be grateful for the way Lucius’ presence was speeding things up.

He leaned back, surprised when the wall he thought he was back against suddenly wasn’t there. Harry landed on the hard straw mattress with an ill-concealed gasp of surprise, drawing the attention of all three Malfoys.

“Harry, it’s gorgeous!” Draco murmured, pulling Harry up and immediately ripping the rest of the concealing sheet off the large bed Harry had mistaken for a wall. The black lacquer on the wood gleamed brightly, accentuating the intricately detailed carvings on the head and footboards.

“Well chosen, Harry,” Lucius drawled, his voice free of any of its normal condescension or sarcasm. “This is a Colonial Raj four-poster. My great-uncle brought it back from his travels in India more than one hundred and fifty years ago.”

Draco ran a hand over the smooth finish of the footboard, his lips curved in a smile.

“The rest of the bedroom furniture is all wrong for it –”

Lucius strode away, pulling sheets off large pieces at random until he found what he was looking for – a complete set of bedroom furniture in the same style and finish as the bed Harry had uncovered.

“Perfect,” Draco breathed, his grey eyes gleaming with excitement. “We’ll use the others we picked out I the guest rooms, but this suite is definitely for our bedroom.”

“I agree,” Narcissa said, eying the two boys fondly. “It seems as if it were made just for you.”

***

“– of course, most people don’t understand that it’s not a  _ substitution _ for brushing, merely a band-aid fix if you can’t get to your toothbrush immediately after a meal,” Mr. Granger said, not noticing the glaze of fear that had transformed Theo’s eyes when he’d started talking about sugarless gum.

Hermione swatted him gently on the thigh, shaking her head slightly. She’d been over this with him again and again, but he – and Ginny, for that matter – seemed convinced that  _ gum _ was something harmful. They’d been at her parents’ house for a good two hours, having successfully gotten through the meal her mother had prepared without a problem. The flowers and wine he’d brought for her mother had been an instant success, breaking the ice quite nicely when they’d arrived. But as soon as her parents began talking about oral hygiene, as they were wont to do, Theo had completely frozen.

“We have charms and spells for that,” she offered, hoping to engage Theo in the conversation. They were set to leave in an hour or so, and she didn’t want her parents’ last impression of him to be like this. “They accomplish the same things, but with a much higher rate of success.”

Her mother nodded, smiling kindly at Theo. 

“That’s fortunate, dear,” she said, her brown eyes showing a bit of concern when she noticed how stiff her daughter’s boyfriend had gotten. She hoped they hadn’t managed to offend him with all their talk of what Hermione called “Muggle” dentistry; she knew he was a pure-blooded wizard, and she didn’t want to cause any problems. 

“You see, Theo, we  _ Muggles _ ,” she laughed as she said the word, feeling silly, “can’t all be trusted with proper oral hygiene. It’s so refreshing that tooth decay is hardly a problem in the wizarding world, probably thanks to those spells Hermione was talking about. We have to rely on regular brushing and flossing, which can be difficult to do well for some people. Why just last week, I had a young man about your age with such troubles that I had to drill –”

She paused when Theo paled, jumping up from his spot next to Hermione on the sofa. He bolted toward the washroom without comment.

“Oh, dear. Was it something I said?” Mrs. Granger asked, staring after him in concern.

“No, Mum, not really,” Hermione said, her face pinking with embarrassment. “Some of the other classmates were having it on with Theo earlier this week. They said as dentists you might use your drills to do him harm when we told you –” Hermione broke off, her blush growing. “I’ll just go see to him, shall I?”

The Grangers watched their only daughter scramble down the corridor, disappearing into the washroom Theo had just retreated to. They’d known something was going on, but Hermione’s words set off fresh panic in them.

“My God, Hal, she’s fallen pregnant.”


	9. Chapter 9

After spending twenty minutes coaxing Theo out of the downstairs loo, Hermione decided it was best if they just called the evening quits a bit early. She could always tell her parents about the engagement later. It meant living with Luna for a bit longer, but she honestly didn’t mind the arrangement. The Ravenclaw was a great study partner and a very quiet roommate.

Her parents had been uncharacteristically quiet as they left, and Hermione wondered just how put off they were by Theo’s odd behavior. The look her other had given her as they stepped outside to Apparate back to Hogwarts had been downright strange, as had the malevolent glare her father had set on Theo.

“Better?” she asked softly, nodding toward the half-empty glass of Firewhisky in Theo’s hand. They’d come straight back to his suite of rooms, studiously avoiding anyone – especially Dean. Hermione silently swore to get her revenge on him somehow, knowing what a state he’d worked Theo up into before this disastrous visit.

“Will be,” he murmured, pulling her off the arm of the chair and into his lap. She stayed locked in his embrace for several minutes, finally pulling away when his hand started to snake up underneath her shirt. “Hermione.”

“I know,” she said, resting her head on his chest. “I know. But until we get this all sorted out with my parents, it just doesn’t feel right.”

Theo blew out a breath, willing himself to keep his temper. It been an awful end to an awful few weeks, and he was skating close to the edge.

“Before –”

“Before, I didn’t know we were  _ engaged _ , Theo.”

“But we were, and we still are. Why does it matter –”

“It matters because when my mother asks me if been intimate I can say no.”

“You can say –” Theo laughed. “But we  _ have _ . We already have, so why should we stop?”

Hermione shoved off his lap, glaring at him. His laughter was infectious, though, and she soon found herself giggling at the absurdity of it as well. She settled back on his lap, enjoying the easy camaraderie between them after days of tension.

“That’s true. But we haven’t since I realized we were engaged, so it’s not totally a lie. Please, Theo,” she said, all traces of her laughter gone as she looked him in the eye. “We haven’t done anything else the way we should have. Please let me have this. For my parents. Please.”

His objections melted away when he saw the earnestness in her chocolate brown eyes. He’d never realized how much he’d cheated her out of by tricking her into a wizarding engagement. He’d been meeting with the Muggle Traditions teacher after classes, picking her brain about Muggle engagements and weddings. It had never occurred to him that she might want a proper engagement, with the ring and the going down on one knee and everything else the teacher had told him about.

“Of course,” he murmured, bringing her hand up to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “Of course.”

***

Harry pushed the small quail around his plate, trying to hide it behind a serving of wild rice. He’d never considered himself squeamish, but something about dismembering the small bird on his plate was extremely unappetizing.

“I could have the house-elves bring you something different, Harry, if you are displeased with the quail,” Narcissa said, startling Harry. The Malfoys were not big on polite chatter during dinner, and most of the meal had passed in silence.

“That’s not necessary, Narcissa,” Harry said quickly, a blush seeping up from his collar. Apparently his efforts to conceal how little he’d eaten had been unsuccessful.

“Nonsense,” she replied, calling for one of the Manor elves. “Bring Master Harry something different, Midgie, and take away his plate.”

The house-elf curtsied, whisking Harry’s plate away before he could protest again. It was back less than a minute later with a plate of chicken and mashed potatoes.

“Thank you,” he managed, his face hot with embarrassment. He met Draco’s sidelong glance with a timid smile, picking up his knife and fork and starting in the chicken. He had to admit it looked better than the previous entrée, even if it was ridiculous for Narcissa to force the elves to make him something different.

Obviously sensing Harry’s discomfort, Draco took a fortifying sip of wine and struck up a conversation with his parents – something nearly unheard of at the dinner table.

“We’ve learned a few complicated spells in our Wards and Home Protections class,” he started, fighting not to grimace when his father’s eyebrows rose fractionally. He was sure he’d be hearing about this later, but Harry needed to eat, and it was clear he didn’t feel comfortable doing so in silence.

***

Pansy didn’t pay much notice to the crying girl who shot by her as she waited outside Neville’s Remedial Apparition class. It met on Friday evenings in the gardens, which she found to be quite inconvenient, and she’d taken to the habit of settling herself underneath a large tree nearby and studying her Animagus textbook while she waited for his class to end.

When Madam Pomfrey and the Headmistress barreled past, following the still-crying girl, it got her attention. Pansy tossed her book aside, darting through the hedge around the gardens at their heels. Neville was a strong wizard in his own right and actually had a fair amount of power, but his lack of self-confidence caused no small number of magical catastrophes. She just hoped this wasn’t one of those times.

“– and we were just supposed to be envisioning our destination, not  _ Apparating _ , but when we all opened our eyes he was gone. Just gone. Except for his shoe.” The girl held the shoe in question out to the Headmistress, her bottom lip still wobbling with threatening tears. The wards had been tweaked so the students could practice in the gardens, which meant it was likely the missing person had Apparated by accident.

Pansy squeezed her eyes shut, knowing exactly who was gone.  _ He.  _ It had to be Neville. He was the only wizard in the small class.

“Do you know what location he was envisioning?” 

Pansy backed out of the gardens, knowing her best chance of finding Neville – in one piece, she hoped – was to do it alone. No doubt the Headmistress had a protocol to follow, and she didn’t feel like going along with a plan that would only delay finding him.

_ Neville _ , she thought to herself, sprinting toward the gates so she could Apparate without arousing the Headmistress’ suspicions,  _ where in Merlin’s name could you be, you dolt? _

***

Harry’s assertion that nothing could have been worse than dinner with the Malfoys was promptly proven wrong when Lucius insisted they all retire to the drawing room together for drinks afterward. Harry sat in a stiff-backed chair across the room from Draco, engaged in a stilted conversation about futures trading with Lucius. Draco –  _ the lucky bastard, _ Harry thought uncharitably – had been whisked into more plans for their new home with his mother. The two were pouring over catalogues of expensive linens, which Harry was pleased to find  _ were _ acceptable to buy new. He’d never understand the Malfoys, he’d sworn. Never.

“Actually, I leave all that in the hands of my consultant at Gringotts,” Harry said, instantly regretting his words when he saw the horror in Lucius’ grey eyes.  _ So like his son’s, yet so different _ , Harry noted. “They’ve not steered me wrong. My vaults have actually grown considerably since I allowed the goblins to make most of the investment decisions.”

Narcissa looked up, aware of the sudden silence that had fallen over the room. It was clear from the stricken expression on her husband’s face that the conversation was not going well.

“We’ve kept you boys far too long,” she said lightly, kissing Draco on the cheek and rising gracefully to move toward Harry, repeating the motion. “I’m sure it’s been an exhausting day for you, Harry. Sleep well.”

She ushered Lucius out of the room, heading toward the east wing. Draco grabbed Harry’s arm as well, pulling him the opposite direction. He’d been given the west wing for his personal use when he turned eleven, giving him plenty of space away from his parents.

“What exactly did you say to him? I haven’t seen Father that mortified since the Death Eater trials,” Draco said, his amusement apparent.

“Just that my investments are handled by Gringotts. That’s not so horrible, is it?”

Draco shook his head, wrapping an arm affectionately around Harry’s shoulders as they climbed the large marble staircase.

“Oh, Harry,” he sighed, smiling. “Never change.”

***

As a Slytherin, Pansy rarely indulged in panic. When Neville wasn’t in the first three places she checked, though, an unfamiliar feeling began to grow in her stomach – one she rightfully concluded was anxiety. She’d checked his Gran’s house, his favorite park and the herbology supply center in Diagon Alley. She was out of ideas and getting more worried as the seconds passed.

She looked up into the darkened night sky, wondering if she should get someone to help. Hermione and Theo were likely back, and she could always pop over to the Manor and grab Draco or Harry. Pansy clenched her jaw, her shoulders straightening with resolve. She was a Parkinson, and a Slytherin to boot. She should be able to find one measly missing Gryffindor!

“There you are!” 

Pansy let out a short shriek, berating herself for forgetting her surroundings so completely that someone could sneak up on her. She turned, feeling even more disgusted with herself when she recognized the familiar shock of red hair. Ron Weasley, well known for having all the grace and stealth of an injured hippogriff, had managed to startle her. Fabulous.

“I figured you’d be out looking,” Ron said, dropping onto the cool grass next to her. She was still in the small park near Neville’s house. “Hermione’s out, too. McGonagall’s frantic. Thank Merlin it’s too late in the evening to call Mrs. Longbottom. I can’t imagine what she’d have to say about this.”

Pansy snickered, knowing full well what the woman would say. She’d had enough encounters with the feisty old bat to know exactly how sharp her tongue was.

“I’ve been to his favorite shop in Diagon Alley and his Gran’s house, too,” she said, surprising herself by being forthcoming with Ron. They’d been civil to each other for the last few months, but never what anyone would term friends. 

“Hermione’s been through all the greenhouses at Hogwarts and up and down the streets in Hogsmeade,” Ron said, picking tufts of grass absentmindedly. “I even tried a few places in Muggle London he likes.”

Pansy swallowed, the unfamiliar feeling in her stomach growing significantly. 

“He can’t just have disappeared! He’s got to be  _ somewhere _ .”

They both looked up, startled, when Neville dropped down next to them. He looked to be completely whole and healthy, with the notable exception of the shoe he’d left at Hogwarts.

“France. I was in France,” he said, ignoring their gobsmacked expressions. Apparating that distance was difficult for veteran wizards, and practically unheard of for someone’s first attempt. Many never managed more than a few dozen kilometers, even after years of practice. 

“There’s a rare species of Venomous Tentacula that grows wild in southern France,” he explained, shrugging lightly. “I was planning to include it in my final project for our Wards and Home Protections class. I guess I was thinking about it when I should have been concentrating on something else, and bam next thing I knew, I was in France.”

Ron and Pansy remained silent, staring at Neville incredulously.

“Nearly stepped on the blasted thing,” he said, blushing slightly. “ _ That _ would have been a disaster.”

***

Draco snaked a hand into Harry’s pocket, his eyes narrowing when his fingers closed around nothing but lining.

“Tell me you didn’t lose it,” he said, his lips swollen from Harry’s enthusiastic kisses.

“Don’t be daft,” Harry muttered, using a Summoning Spell to retrieve the thick silver ring from Draco’s chest of drawers. “I didn’t want it falling out during dinner or anything, so I had one of the house-elves bring it back here.”

Draco laughed, envisioning the look on his mother’s – not to mention his father’s – face if the cock ring he’d given Harry earlier as an apology  _ had _ fallen out of the dark-haired boy’s pocket. He had no doubt his parents would be familiar with the uses of such a thing, having attended several of their social circle’s “parties” during the war. Adult Slytherins were no different than their school-aged counterparts; they could just afford better toys and more privacy.

“I doubt they’d be surprised, actually,” he said, taking advantage of Harry’s open mouth to kiss him senseless again. He pulled back when they were both breathless, one of his fingers stroking the soft metal. “But I don’t want you thinking about them. I want you thinking about _ me _ .”

Harry groaned when Draco thrust his trouser-covered erection against his own, his head falling back and hitting the wall behind him. Draco had jumped him the moment they’d entered his suite, not giving the dark-haired boy a chance to utter a word about how the evening had gone.

“I bought this thinking it would be a good apology for springing this trip to the Manor on you,” Draco whispered, his teeth gently grazing against Harry’s earlobe in a way he knew drew the other boy wild. “Do you want to use it to punish me, Harry? To take away my control, like I took away yours?”

Harry groaned again when Draco’s mouth returned to his, the bruising force of the kiss making his pulse race.

“Or do you want to use it yourself? It can feel wonderful, you know. Completely being at someone else’s mercy, giving them full responsibility for your pleasure.”

Harry was already beyond aroused, and Draco’s words made him whimper in anticipation. He flew into action, pushing back against Draco so he could unfasten the blond’s trousers. He could feel all of his aggravation and anxiety from his unexpected day with Draco’s parents coming to a head, and he wanted to show Draco some of that same frustration, that same helplessness.

“Off. Everything,” he panted, his fingers leaving Draco’s open trousers to start pulling at the buttons on his shirt.

Draco shivered slightly at the tone of Harry’s voice, positive he was going to thoroughly enjoy whatever Harry had in mind. He rarely pushed his gentle Gryffindor to be so aggressive, but when that side of Harry surfaced – and he definitely had a forceful, Slytherin side – it was truly a sight to behold. He scrambled to comply with Harry’s order, his clothes falling into a haphazard heap at their feet. When he was completely naked he looked up at Harry, surprised to see that the other boy had merely removed his belt, socks and shoes.

“On the bed,” Harry said, pushing Draco across the room with a none-too-gentle hand against his chest. “I want you on your back.”

Draco barely had time to comply before Harry’s mouth was on his aching cock, his tongue swirling around the head before taking most of the thick shaft into his mouth. Draco whimpered, his hands fisting in the duvet to keep from grabbing Harry’s head and forcing himself deeper into the wet heat of the other boy’s mouth.

“Mmm,” Harry hummed, making Draco’s back arch up off the bed as the vibrations wrapped around his cock, the sensation echoing in his balls. 

Harry continued his expert ministrations, using his tongue to provide extra pressure as he worked his mouth along Draco’s length, his lips tightly wrapped around the shaft. He ran a finger through the saliva that had pooled at the base, wetting it thoroughly before sliding it along Draco’s crack and probing at his entrance. He pulled his mouth back just before his finger grazed against the blond’s prostate, knowing exactly what he was doing to him.

Draco’s eyes snapped open when he felt the cool metal ring slide over his cock. A whispered spell enlarged it enough to slip over his balls, trapping them tightly at another word from Harry. Frustration and arousal surged through his veins. Harry was completely in control now, and Draco knew he wouldn’t be coming until Harry allowed it. He shuddered as Harry’s tongue teased his balls roughly, knowing he would have already come if not for the restrictive cock ring.

Harry sat back, his erection straining against his trousers. He slid a hand over the bulge, teasing himself, but didn’t undress. Instead, he pulled Draco up, covering the blond’s naked body with his own as he kissed him. 

The sensation of his aching and sensitive cock rubbing up against the coarse fabric of Harry’s wool trousers was agonizing, and Draco whimpered as Harry’s tongue invaded his mouth. Harry thrust his hips forward cruelly, knowing how much the contact would torture Draco. He slid a hand over the smooth expanse of Draco’s back, cupping his arse lightly before spreading his cheeks and rubbing his finger against Draco’s entrance. The blond groaned, trying to force the finger inside by pushing back against Harry’s hand. 

The dark-haired boy made a sound of disapproval, quickly removing his hand. Draco growled in frustration, deepening the kiss and running his hands over Harry’s clothed body.

“Do you want to hear me beg?” Draco asked, his voice rough with arousal. “Is that what you want? I’m begging, Harry.  _ Please _ . Get out of those fucking clothes and  _ do _ something.”

Harry nipped at Draco’s lip in reprimand, eliciting another deep groan. He wanted to make Draco wait, but he couldn’t wait much longer himself.

“Lie back on the bed and finger yourself,” Harry said, his eyes nearly black with arousal. “Get yourself ready for me.”

Draco fell back on the soft mattress, twisting to delve into the nightstand for the pot of lubricant he kept there. He dipped his fingers into the lightly scented oil, coating them generously before raising his legs and slipping two fingers inside himself.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of Draco’s pale fingers sliding in and out of his tight hole. He hurried to undress, tossing clothes off the bed without a care for where they landed. The candles in the wall sconces flickered as his shirt sailed past, casting an ethereal glow over Draco’s pale skin. Harry gave himself a few experimental strokes as he watched Draco continue to prepare himself, his cock twitching in sympathy as he hungrily eyed Draco’s angry red erection.

“Coat my cock, too,” Harry murmured, a feral grin snaking across his face when Draco nearly knocked the pot over in his haste to scoop up more oil. Harry’s eyes slid closed when Draco’s hand closed around his length, pumping him teasingly as he spread the oil.

Draco’s breath caught when Harry knelt before him, caressing his legs lovingly before resting them on his shoulders and positioning himself at Draco’s entrance. He waited for a slight nod from Draco before pushing in, making sure the blond was ready before he thrust past the tight ring of muscle.

“Harry,” Draco whined, feeling as though he might burst if he wasn’t allowed to come soon. He groaned again when Harry’s thick length pressed against his prostate, his eyes closing as he whimpered with pleasure so fierce it was almost pain. “Harry,  _ please _ .”

Sweat dripped down Harry’s back as he thrust harder, his strokes coming faster and more frenzied as he approached his own orgasm. He murmured a word to release the magically tightened cock ring, driving deep inside Draco once again.

Draco knew the moment the restrictive ring was released. All the heat that had pooled in his belly suddenly surged forward, drawing an intense orgasm out of him that seemed to go on forever. He screamed out as he convulsed, wave after wave of pleasure and relief crashing over him. He could feel Harry buried inside him, knowing that his orgasm would likely send Harry over the edge as well.

“Oh God,” Harry gasped when he felt Draco contract around him, sheathing him in a wet heat that was almost painful. “Fuck, Draco.”

He spurted his release, collapsing bonelessly on top of the blond when the last of his orgasm subsided. They were both breathing heavily and soaked in sweat, but neither protested the lingering closeness. Harry blew out a breath, pressing a kiss against Draco’s damp hair before rolling off him. 

“Mmm,” Draco sighed, nestling against Harry as they both drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione frowned at the large parcel sitting on the table in front of her. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, with nothing other than her name and the return address written in tidy scrawl across the top. All in all, it was a pretty innocuous-looking thing. Which is why Luna couldn’t quite figure out why Hermione was staring at it as though it might bite her at any moment.

“It’s too small to be harboring an Umbugular Slashkilter, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Luna chirped, drawing a glare from the brunette.

“I didn’t believe those existed in fifth year, and I don’t believe in them now,” she said sourly, pushing the unopened package away from her and stirring her morning tea. “It’s from my parents.”

Luna just nodded wisely, pouring her own tea into a cereal bowl and covering it with a generous helping of Weetabix and a sprinkling of sugar.

“Some species of Finches are known for eating their young,” she said gravely, taking a spoonful of her cereal.

That startled a laugh out of Hermione, and her expression softened considerably.

“I really do love you, Luna,” she said affectionately, tearing into the parcel before she could lose her nerve

***

“– specialist from St. Mungo’s who works with witches and wizards who have fractures in their magical cores,” McGonagall said, ignoring the look of horror on Neville’s face.

“That’s really not necessary, Professor,” he squeaked, a hot blush rushing to his face. He didn’t understand why everyone was so sure there was something wrong with him. He was an average-powered wizard, maybe a bit below. It didn’t bother him, and he didn’t see why no one else could accept it.

“Neville,” Augusta Longbottom scolded, studying him with a severe expression. Her presence upset him more than anything; he was an of-age wizard, for Merlin’s sake! Head of his family! It was utterly mortifying that the Headmistress would have called his Gran in for this unnecessary meeting. “You’ll not take that tone with your elders.”

Neville seethed silently, his blush darkening as his anger increased. He wished Pansy had been able to come with him, though he suspected the Headmistress had scheduled the meeting at a time his fiancée was in her lessons on purpose. Likely they figured it would be easy to cow poor, doddering Neville into doing what they wanted if she wasn’t with him. His usually gentle brown eyes flashed with fury, and he stood abruptly, settling his tea cup on its saucer with a loud clink.

“Thank you for your concern, Headmistress,” he said coolly, his heart racing underneath his forced calm. He never noticed the portrait frames on the walls beginning to shake, or the way the trinkets on McGonagall’s desk trembled. “I assure you I am more than capable of seeking out any assistance I might need, though at this time I am not convinced of the necessity.

He turned to his grandmother, making sure she could see the fury on his face. They’d already had several discussions about his role as the head of the family, and it looked like they’d be having more in the near future.

“It was kind of you to come all this way, Gran,” he said quietly, the undertone of steel in his voice making his true feelings on the matter clear. He’d use the familial magic imbued in his title if he had to, just as he’d threatened to do when she challenged his engagement to Pansy, and she knew it. “I’m sorry the trip was wasted.”

He walked toward the door, his muscles vibrating with anger. 

“Please,” he said, gesturing to the women who had started to stand, “do finish your tea. I’ll see myself out.”

***

Luna slid into her seat in Household Spells, barely making it before Molly closed the door and began the class. She motioned to Theo, rolling her eyes when the Slytherin merely frowned in confusion. She turned to Draco, who had the desk next to hers, whispering urgently in his ear. A flash of concern flitted over his features before he schooled them into his usual smirk of indifference.

He cast a spell when Molly’s back was turned, gritting his teeth when he heard Theo’s deep inhalation of surprise across the room. Most of Slytherin knew the spell, and they’d used it to communicate – in every class but Snape’s, of course – for years. He charmed his quill and began to write in the margins of his notes, knowing the words would appear on Theo’s parchment.

_ Shut up, you idiot! Do you want to get caught? _

He heard Theo snort before words began to scrawl themselves across his own page.

_Stuff it, Draco. We haven’t used this for years. I was surprised._

Draco sighed, scribbling the information Luna had given him on his parchment. It  _ must _ be bad, he reasoned, for her to be worried. Luna never worried about anything, and Hermione never missed class.

_ Luna says Hermione got a package from her parents this morning. She’s been locked in her room ever since she opened it. She set a Silencing Spell, but Luna could still hear crashes through the door. She’s still there. _

He could see Theo stiffen out of the corner of his eye. When Molly’s attention was focused on demonstrating a spell at the front of the classroom, Theo quickly gathered his books and bag and darted silently from the room. Harry, Luna and Draco were the only ones to notice his quick exit.

Harry blinked, leaning over and looking at the words scribbled on Draco’s parchment. His eyebrows rose as he looked around the classroom, noting Hermione’s absence for the first time, as well as two other curiously empty seats.

“Where are Pansy and Neville?” he whispered.

***

“ –  _ nerve _ of that woman! And calling Gran in, that was just perfect. She’s always been disappointed in my magical strength, and now the Headmistress has to go and give her false hope!”

Pansy watched Neville stalk around their rooms, casting surreptitious charms to protect anything breakable when the irate wizard passed it. He seemed to be quite unaware of the way his magic was leaking, and she didn’t dare interrupt to tell him. 

“Why can’t they just accept me for what I am?” Neville said miserably, collapsing on the sofa next to Pansy. He scrubbed his hands over his face, growling in frustration. 

She waited until he’d been silent for a few minutes before gently pulling his hands from his head, cupping one of them between both of her own. He wasn’t going to like what she had to say, but it didn’t change the fact that it had to be said.

“Neville,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “You know that I love you, and I’d love you even if you didn’t have enough strength to Apparate from here to Hogsmeade.”

She paused, pinning him with an intense gaze. She could feel his hand twitch in hers, and she knew he was bracing himself for what she was about to say.

“But I think you have to see the specialist, love. You accidently Apparated yourself to France, Neville. You’re leaking destructive magic, even if you haven’t noticed it. I’ve never seen anything like it, except –”

“Except for Harry, the most powerful and magically repressed wizard in the history of England,” he said flatly, letting his head fall back against the sofa in resignation.

Pansy stroked his cheek, caressing the line of his jaw gently. 

“What if all those magical accidents you’ve had for years aren’t just the result of clumsiness or forgetfulness, Nev? What if they’re right, and you’ve this massive pool of power locked inside of you where it can’t get out? That’s dangerous, Neville. My uncle died from a dislocated magical core. Maybe they’re all wrong, and Apparating to France was just a freak accident. Fine. But what if they’re not wrong?”

Neville sighed, cracking open his eyes to look at Pansy’s face. She had tears running down her cheeks, a testament to how upset she was, since the girl usually had a tight control over her emotions. It broke his heart, and he knew he’d been beaten.

“Fine. I’ll get the name from the Headmistress tomorrow and Fire-call –”

“His name is Healer Arnot. You have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon,” she said calmly, dashing her tears away with the back of her hand as though they’d never even fallen.

Neville squinted at her, a small smile curving his lips. He’d obviously been played, and played well. He could hardly fault her for it; she only wanted what was best for him, for their future.

“Do you even  _ have _ any uncles, Pans?”

***

Harry let his legs dangle over the low wall, his feet barely touching the tall grass underneath. An owl had come for him at lunch, detailing an appointment Lucius had set up for Harry with his private investment firm. He’d made it clear in his brief letter that it was unacceptable for a Malfoy to allow anyone but the best to handle his money. 

“But I’m not a Malfoy, Draco,” he said petulantly, picking the petals off a piece of clover.

Draco shrugged, cleaning a spot off for himself with a quick Cleaning Charm before settling down on the wall next to Harry.

“You will be, soon enough,” he said indifferently, shrugging his shoulders slightly. He’d assumed Harry would keep his own accounts separate, which was customary when two old and powerful families joined. Hopefully they’d have two heirs – though he supposed three would be better, since Harry had two inheritances – so each of the family names could be carried on. 

Harry snorted, throwing the mutilated piece of clover over the wall and watching it sink slowly through the air, caught on some unseen current.

“I’m  _ marrying _ a Malfoy, Draco. That doesn’t make me a Malfoy. I’ll still be a Potter.”

Draco looked up with a frown, pausing to study Harry’s absolutely serious face before replying.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said sharply. “You’ll take the Malfoy name, of course. All Malfoy spouses do. Our first child will be a Malfoy, and after that we’ll have to figure out how many more to have and which ones to designate as the Potter and Black heirs, but  _ you’ll _ be a Malfoy.”

Harry gaped at the blond, an icy feeling shooting through his veins. Draco didn’t go in for most of the pure-blood shite his parents did, not anymore at least, and Harry hadn’t thought keeping his name would be a problem. After all, it wasn’t like he was a girl. 

“Wait,” he said slowly, his eyes widening as a horrifying thought dawned on him. “I’m not going to be your  _ wife _ , Draco. We’ll be husbands, equals. I’ll keep my name and you’ll keep yours. We’ll work the heirs thing out if the opportunity to have children ever presents itself, but don’t think for a minute that I’m going to give up my name!”

Harry boosted himself off the wall, landing lightly on his feet at the base. He shot a glare at Draco before clenching his jaw and storming back toward the castle, his mood darkening with every step.

***

Theo heard the crashes the moment he stepped into the set of rooms Hermione and Luna shared, which meant Hermione’s Silencing Spell must have totally failed at some point. He threw his bag aside and hurried to her closed bedroom door, expecting the worst. Had her parents disowned her? Demanded she never see him again? What could have possibly provoked this kind of reaction out of Hermione, who was usually so calm and reasonable?

His hand closed around the doorknob, unsurprised that it wouldn’t turn. Her Locking Spell had been much more effective than the Silencing Spell she’d cast. He backed up a few paces, shooting several spells toward the door in quick succession. He’d gotten rather good at opening locked doors and penetrating wards over the years, since Draco had been partial to locking them all out of their dorm whenever he wanted a wank, which was often.

The next time he tried the knob yielded, and he edged the door open cautiously, mindful of the continuing crashes from inside the room. Without even thinking, he threw up a protective barrier when a porcelain figurine came careening at his head the moment he stepped around the now-open door.

“Theo!” Hermione shrieked, throwing her wand aside and lunging at him. He dropped the barrier just seconds before she would have hit it. “God, I’m so sorry! Are you hurt? I didn’t know you were there, I –”

He silenced her with a kiss, his hands coming up to cradle the back of her head as he pulled away and studied her tear-streaked face. Something was most definitely wrong, and his heart sank. He couldn’t expect her to side with him over her family, but he swore to himself he’d at least fight for her, even if it meant going back to the Grangers by himself and announcing his intentions.

“They think I’m pregnant, Theo,” she said miserably, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. “Pregnant! Me! As if I’d be that irresponsible! As if  _ you’d _ be that irresponsible! As if we wouldn’t have gone to them the instant we’d found out if I actually was! How can they think that of me?”

He stroked her hair, stepping over the rubble littering her bedroom floor as he sought out a clear space to sit. He swept a few books off her bed, cringing when he saw several of the loosened leaves dislodge from the ruined bindings as they fell to the floor. She’d definitely regret  _ that _ when she calmed down; Hermione’s respect for her books bordered on worship. Theo pulled Hermione into his lap, cuddling her against his chest.

“We’ve always been close, which is why it was so upsetting to be engaged to you without having talked about it with them first,” she said, her voice muffled since she was still pressing her face into his robes. “I thought they knew me. But then I got that –” she made a vague motion over her shoulder, and he turned to see a box with several books in it and a crumpled letter on top “– and I don’t know how they could even  _ think _ that!”

Her anger drained out of her as he held her, abruptly shifting to tears. He held her for what seemed like forever as he waited for her soft crying to stop. When it did, he shifted her in his arms so he could reach behind himself and pull the box over. He could hear her breathing even out, and he figured she’d fallen asleep, probably exhausted after her impressive tantrum and subsequent crying jag.

Theo rescued the letter first, smoothing it against the bedspread as best he could one-handed before holding it up so he could read it. It had been written by Hermione’s mother, who professed deep disappointment and shock that her daughter had found herself in that position, as well as anger that she hadn’t come to them for help right away.  _ Ah, _ he thought, scanning through a few paragraphs of accusations and recriminations _ , so that’s what set this off. _ She was much too self-assured to let a simple misunderstanding like this upset her so; he figured it must have been her mother’s words that hurt her the most. After all, it was a simple enough thing to correct their mistake. 

He set the letter aside, rifling through the box to see what books could possibly have accompanied a missive like the one Mrs. Granger had sent. He had to clamp his lips shut to stop his laughter when he saw the titles, sure those had only added to Hermione’s rage.  _ What to Expect When You’re Expecting; Our Bodies, Ourselves: Pregnancy and Birth; The Single Woman’s Guide to a Happy Pregnancy; The Unplanned Pregnancy Book for Teens and College Students.  _

He sighed, pushing the box away and using his wand to clear a larger space on Hermione’s bed. There was hope for things, he was sure of that. Even in their anger, the Grangers cared enough about their daughter to send her the information they thought she needed. He just needed to talk to them and get them to understand what was actually going on. He eased her down gently, prying her fingers from the folds in his robes and smoothing her hair against the pillow. She shifted but didn’t wake.

Theo looked around her ruined room, his chest aching at the thought that her mother’s letter had caused Hermione such distress. He vowed to make it right as soon as he could, moving up the plan he and Harry had come up with by several weeks. As he started repairing items and gathering those he couldn’t fix to throw away, Theo wondered if Hermione’s reaction to her parents thinking she was pregnant was really all about her being hurt and not some hint that she didn’t want to have children at all. 

***

“Are you sure there’s nothing else she needs?” Hannah asked, her voice hushed. Hermione had woken around midday, but Draco had given her a Calming Draught almost immediately and put her back to sleep. 

Everyone in their group of friends had been shocked to hear that Hermione had gotten so distressed about something – and speculation was running wild, since Harry, Draco, Theo and Luna refused to give the details. She was usually the one they could count on to be stable and reasonable, and now she’d had what amounted to a major meltdown only a few weeks after her outburst at the Zabini estate.

“Really, she’s fine,” Harry assured her, taking a pile of notes and homework from Blaise as he led them into Hermione and Luna’s sitting room. He knew Hermione would appreciate the notes when she felt better, and he told them so.

“Do you lot need anything?” Blaise asked, his eyes lingering on a tired-looking Theo, who was huddled in the corner with Luna and Draco. “Dinner? More potions?”

Harry smiled again, glad they had such great friends. He and Draco still weren’t talking, but the blond hadn’t hesitated for a second when Luna had pulled them out of Wards and Home Protections, babbling about Hermione needing a Calming Draught and Theo needing help handling her. The dark-haired wizard was sure they’d get past their latest fight, but he was still seething over Draco and his father’s arrogance.

“Nothing, thanks. Would you mind stopping by Nev’s, though? I promised to let him know what was going on, but things got crazy here and I didn’t get the chance.”

Hannah nodded, giving Harry a quick kiss on the cheek and pulling Blaise toward the door. The small space was already crowded with the other four, and she was sure Hermione would be mortified if she woke up and found anyone else there.

“And Ron, too?” Harry added, opening the door for them. “He can talk to Ginny. She’s probably over there anyway. He and Dean usually play chess at night while Gin and Lavender hang out.”

“Sure thing, Harry,” Blaise said, sending another worried glance at Theo before shutting the door behind himself.

Harry sagged against the closed door, tired of herding people out of the suite all night. Practically all of their friends – and even a few professors – had stopped by to see if Hermione was ill, and he was tired of making polite excuses. He’d told most of them the truth, that she’d had an upsetting letter from home and needed a bit to get her head around it before she’d be ready for company. Merlin, he just wanted to ward the door and have a good, stiff drink!

He let out a soft laugh when Luna looked up as though sensing his mood shift. She darted into the kitchen, holding up a bottle of Firewhisky. He shook his head, wondering not for the first time if there was a lot more to Luna than she let anyone see.


	11. Chapter 11

Hannah paged through the thick book she’d borrowed from Susan, biting her lip in concentration. She hadn’t been able to give her friend many details, especially since she didn’t have many herself, but the mediwitch-in-training had given her a few suggestions about what to look for in the giant tome.

She ran her finger along the page, her vision blurring as she scanned through the small print. Harry told them Hermione was fine, but she could see the strain on the faces of everyone in the room. Hermione was definitely  _ not _ fine, and her conversation with Susan had given her a few ideas about what might be the culprit.

Her fellow Hufflepuff’s first suggestion had been pregnancy, but Hannah had shot that down immediately. There was no way Hermione and Theo, two of the most responsible people in their class, would be having unprotected sex. Of that she was sure. It had taken awhile – and a few more pointed questions from Susan – before Hannah had actually been able to put into words what had her so worried. From all accounts, Hermione had gone absolutely mental over something. Draco and Harry had been summoned away from class to administer potions, and given that Hermione had been asleep when she and Blaise had dropped by Hannah assumed those had been Calming and Sleeping draughts. It was serious enough for four normally serious students, plus Hermione herself, to miss almost a full day of classes. That all added up to something serious, in her opinion.

But what could have made the normally level-leaded Hermione lose control of herself so badly? Hannah dismissed the words she’d just read, since the few symptoms she knew of didn’t match those explained in the book. Sighing, she consulted the scribbled list she and Susan had compiled before flipping to the next section.

_ Glumbumble stings, see entries for depression and melancholy. A common pest that is found in areas overrun with nettles. After the embedded stinger is removed, most patients respond to a simple Cheering Charm. Depending on the numbers of bites and the amount of time before the stinger(s) are discovered, some patients may need several applications of the charm as well as a mild dose of Pepper-Up Potion. _

Hannah glanced over at Blaise, hoping to bounce the idea off him. The words died on her lips as she realized he was asleep, slumped over a Quidditch magazine at the kitchen table beside her. She smiled softly, Summoning a blanket from their bedroom to drape over him. After a moment of consideration she pointed her wand at the magazine, successfully Transfiguring it into a pillow. Hannah barely concealed her squeal of triumph at the success of her spell – it would hardly serve her purpose of surreptitiously making Blaise more comfortable if she woke him now – and turned her attention back to the medical book. She made a few more notes before pushing her chair back quietly and leaving the room.

***

Harry turned uncomfortably on the too-small sofa, his feet hanging over the edge. He could easily have Transfigured it into something more suitable, but he felt this discomfort was penance for his fight with Draco. The blond was likely sleeping soundly in their bed right now, he mused. Draco had seemed wholly unaffected by their fight, which only served to infuriate Harry further. It all seemed rather silly at the moment, though, as he tossed and turned in self-imposed exile in Hermione and Luna’s sitting room.

A quiet knock on the door had him grumbling to himself as he wrestled his way out of the tangled bedclothes Luna had retrieved for him. It took a few more knocks before he made it to the door, ready to launch into an angry rejoinder at Draco for bothering them so late in the evening. He stepped back as soon as he saw it was Hannah, not Draco, an undeniable wave of disappointment crashing through him. As angry as he was at Draco, he was more hurt that the blond hadn’t apologized or sought him out for further discussion yet. He’d come to help with Hermione, of course, but Draco had left soon after Hannah and Blaise, once he’d talked with Theo and delivered the potions they’d need.

“Oh no, were you sleeping?” Hannah murmured, her expression horrified. She hadn’t bothered to glance at the time before rushing over, but a quick check of her watch confirmed it was indeed very late. “I’m so sorry, Harry! I’ve been up studying some books I borrowed from Sue, and I had no idea it was after three.”

Harry smiled easily, pulling her into the sitting room and motioning for her to sit on his make-shift bed. That only made her look even more distressed, her mouth opening to apologize again.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he said quietly, his gaze flicking to the two closed bedroom doors. Luna had gone to bed hours ago, and Theo was sleeping in Hermione’s room in case she woke in the night and needed another potion. Hannah shot him a skeptical look, but he waved her concern away. “Really. It’s a long story, but Draco and I had a disagreement and I’ve been up thinking about it.”

The apology in her eyes turned to sympathy, and Hannah scooted a bit closer, patting Harry awkwardly on the knee. 

“No, it’s fine. Or at least it will be, I’m sure. What brings you here so late, though? You said you were studying?”

Hannah jumped up, pulling a piece of folded parchment from her pocket. She’d completely forgotten the reason for her visit after her mortification at the thought of waking him.

“I know you can’t give me the details, but can you answer a few questions about Hermione for me?”

Harry nodded reluctantly, his green eyes traveling to her closed door again. Hermione hadn’t been herself today, but he knew she’d be embarrassed if anyone else knew the extent of her tantrum or the reasons behind it.

“Was she moodier than normal?”

Harry nodded, recalling the almost frightening way she’s shifted from tears to anger back to tears earlier that afternoon. That was when they’d decided a stronger dose of Calming Draught and something to help her sleep was in order. That kind of rollercoaster of emotions was  _ definitely _ not normal for her.

“I know she got some kind of letter from home that set all this off. Was her reaction to the news overly dramatic? Was it, you know, over the top?”

Harry paused, wondering what his own reaction to something like that would have been. Not having grown up with parents (or a loving substitute), though, he had no idea. He shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the question.

“Alright, how about her mood since? Has she acted like everything is hopeless? Like there’s no resolution to whatever is bothering her?”

Harry nodded again, back on solid ground. Everyone was puzzled as to why she felt this was insurmountable; surely it was easy enough to correct her parents mistake? The hurt feelings would remain, but it hardly seemed worthy of her reaction.

“Did you notice any nettles when we were at Blaise’s house? Or around here? I’ve never really seen any on the Hogwarts grounds, but I’ve never gone looking, either.”

Harry frowned at her abrupt shift in topic. He thought back over their weekend at Blaise’s, focusing on the long walk he and Draco had taken the afternoon they’d left. There had definitely been nettles, because he could remember Draco complaining about them tearing at the hem of his trousers.

“There was a big patch of them down by the river at Blaise’s. Why?” 

Hannah sighed in relief, happy to be able to shed some light on Hermione’s odd behavior. Now that she thought about it, the girl had been moody and snappish ever since Midsummer. They’d all attributed it to her fight with Theo, but what if it had been more? 

“Can you cast a good Cheering Charm?” she asked him, oblivious to his confusion. “Because I’m pants at it.”

***

“And again. The same charm, please.”

Neville bit back a sigh, leveling his wand at the square target across the room and casting another Stunning Spell. The spell was absorbed by the target, just like the dozens he’d cast before.

“Perfect,” the disembodied voice said. “You may lower your wand and exit the room, Mr. Longbottom.”

A door appeared on the far wall, and Neville consciously forced his shoulders not to slump in relief and exhaustion as he made his way toward it. Pansy was out in the waiting room, and he was sure she was livid at how long the tests had taken.

He’d been stuck in the windowless room for hours, casting whatever the voice, which belonged to Healer Arnot’s assistant, asked him to. His reflexes had been tested, his ability to cast the same spell with different amounts of power behind it, his ability to cast without a wand (dismal), his ability to cast with a foreign wand (even worse) and his ability to hold several spells simultaneously.

Neville blinked as he stepped out of the dimly lit room into the much brighter corridor. To his surprise, Pansy wasn’t waiting in the neat row of chairs just outside the door. Before he could investigate further, though, another door opened and the healer stepped out.

“Through here please, Mr. Longbottom,” the tall man said, stepping aside so Neville could pass through the door, which led to his office.

Pansy was perched on the edge of a chair, her eyes fixed on a large panel in front of her. Neville cringed when he realized it was showing a view of the room he’d just been in. The healer’s assistant was casting several spells at the target, just as he had. 

“We always like to have a control,” the healer explained, ushering Neville to a chair beside Pansy’s. “It shows us the target is working as it should be.”

He pressed a small button to the side of the panel, and Neville could hear his words echo in the testing room, his voice taking on the same odd, disembodied quality as the assistant’s had when giving him instructions.

“It’s all in working order. Thank you, Natalie.”

The assistant nodded, lowering her wand and heading through the same door Neville had exited minutes before. The healer tapped the panel with his wand, making the picture of the room fade until it was completely obscured.

The man sat on the edge of his desk, leaning forward so he could talk with Neville easily.

“I’ve been able to rule out a few things, all of which are very reassuring,” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “Your magical core is intact, with no dislocations or fractures. That was perhaps the most worrisome diagnosis we faced. There is no blockage in your magical conduit, which is also welcome news.”

He reached into his pocket, taking out a small ball about the size of a Snitch. Without another word, he lobbed it at Neville’s head. The wizard reached out without thinking, catching it easily in his palm. The healer exchanged a significant glance with Pansy, a smile on both of their faces.

“Did you know you are naturally left-handed, Mr. Longbottom?”

Neville shrugged, his fingers running nervously over the smooth sides of the ball in his hand. His left hand, which had instinctively come up to protect his face when the healer had thrown it at him.

“I may have been, but I’m right-handed now. My Gran discouraged it. She tied my left hand behind my back when I was learning to write my letters, so I learned to use my right hand instead.”

The healer shook his head, rubbing his hand along his jaw. He hated cases like these. Older witches and wizards and their prejudices. Many of them believed that being left-handed was a mark of evil.

“It doesn’t work that way,” the healer said, leaning in even further so he could look Neville in the eye. “Your brain is wired to have a naturally dominate side. Yours is the left. Your magic is also wired in the same way.”

Neville frowned, unsure what the point of it was. He could write and cast perfectly well with his right hand, thanks to countless hours of lessons and punishments when he was a child. The training hadn’t been able to change the fact that he always reached out with his left hand when he was taken by surprise, but it was also instinctive now for him to only reach for a quill or his wand with his right hand.

“You’re casting at about half your ability because you’re using the wrong hand, Mr. Longbottom,” the healer said. His lips continued to move as he explained things further, but all Neville could hear was a loud buzzing in his ears.  _ Half his ability _ ? He jolted when Healer Arnot touched his arm, bringing him back into the conversation. “You’re an exceptionally powerful wizard, Mr. Longbottom. The fact that you are able to use a wand with your right hand at all, let alone with the level of success you do, is amazing.”

***

With Susan’s help, they’d been able to find the Glumbumble stinger that had been embedded in Hermione’s left shoulder and remove it. She’d been exposed to it for so long that it required several Cheering Charms and a full dose of Pepper-Up Potion before she had fully returned to herself, but they’d managed to do it themselves without involving Madam Pomfrey and all the questions that would have necessitated.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Hermione moaned, holding her red face in her hands. 

She’d felt more like herself immediately after the potion, and the full horror of her reactions for the last day – as well as her foul mood for the last few weeks – had settled in almost right away. Harry and Theo had initially been worried that meant the Glumbumble’s venom hadn’t completely left her system, but there was a distinctly different quality to Hermione’s reactions, enough for them to see she was definitely herself.

“Oh God,” she said suddenly, her head snapping up. “Theo! Theo, I moved out! I’m so sorry! Oh, Merlin.”

“Not permanently,” he said easily, slipping a comforting arm around her shoulder. “And you had some good points, even if I didn’t understand them all at first. I’m fine with waiting until we talk with your parents, Hermione. Hell, we should probably talk to mine before you move back in, too.”

She managed a small smile when he kissed the corner of her mouth, his hand rubbing reassuring circles on her back. She was still angry at her parents, but nothing like yesterday. She was hurt they would jump to that conclusion, but she could also see why they did. And it really was sweet of her mother to send those books, even if it was slightly infuriating.

“Soon, then,” she said, returning his shy kiss. She wanted to resolve this as quickly as they could so she could put it all behind her.

“Whatever you like,” he answered, smiling brightly at her when she nodded.

***

“I’m not saying  _ lie _ to her, just don’t tell her where I’ve gone,” Theo muttered darkly, glaring at Harry.

The dark-haired Gryffindor was reluctant to withhold anything from Hermione, fearful of a relapse into her melancholy behavior even though Susan had assured them that all traces of the Glumbumble venom had disappeared. If Hermione caught them mid-plotting, she’d likely be angry, but it would be nothing like her reaction a few days ago.

“He won’t be around for her to ask,” Draco said, startling the two boys as he walked up behind them. They’d just finished lunch in the Great Hall when Theo had pulled Harry off to the side to talk about his plans for the evening, and neither had seen Draco’s approach.

“Mother’s here to see you,” Draco said, a satisfied smirk on his face. He knew she’d set Harry straight on his priorities, just as his grandmother had with her. It was a Malfoy family tradition. His fight with Harry would be over by the end of the day, and he was excited at the prospect of sharing a bed with his fiancé again. “I told her you had a free period after lunch today, so she’s waiting for you at the gates.”

Harry glared at the blond, turning back to Theo purposefully.

“She’ll be angry, especially if this doesn’t go the way you plan. She should be with you.”

Theo shook his head. This was his mistake, and he’d fix it.

“No offense, Harry, but you weren’t exactly raised in accordance with normal Muggle traditions,” he said almost gently, wincing when he saw a look of fury flit across Draco’s face. The blond was fiercely protective of Harry, even when they were fighting, and he still hadn’t quite processed all the things Harry had told him about his childhood. Theo knew the basics from Hermione, and as far as he was concerned, Draco had every right to be furious with those Muggles.

Harry slumped slightly, conceding Theo’s point. As angry as he was with Draco and his family, he didn’t want to keep Narcissa waiting – even if it  _ was _ an unscheduled visit. She seemed to specialize in those.

“Good luck, then,” he said, offering Theo a small smile before glaring at Draco and walking toward the Entrance Hall.

Theo rolled his shoulders, trying to find some relief for his tense muscles as he headed down to the greenhouses to help Neville with a difficult project. The enormity of what he was planning to do that evening was not lost on him, but he was grateful for all the help his friends had given him – especially Neville’s offer to keep him busy between classes today.

“You’d better be planning something big to make it up to him,” he said to Draco as the blond matched his stride.

Their fight was no secret among their inner circle, with most of the pure-bloods taking Draco’s side and the others taking Harry’s. Theo was an exception, since he had an older brother to continue the bloodline and carry out all the ancient traditions. He had a feeling that viewpoint would serve him well when the topic came up with Hermione, since he doubted she would take kindly to being ordered to change her name, either.

“Of course,” Draco said easily, the rest of his response lost when they heard a rather large explosion that sounded like it came from the direction of the greenhouses.

“Neville,” the both said, breaking into a run as the first plume of smoke rose into the air. 

The wizard had been trying to learn to cast with his left hand, but he’d had a hard time learning his own strength. After a simple Cleaning Charm had lifted a layer of stone off the floor of his rooms, he’d agreed to hold off on casting anything without supervision. Apparently he’d forgotten.

Neville met them at the door, waving smoke away from his face with his free hand. He offered the concerned Slytherins a sheepish grin as he let them enter, relieved they were there to help him set the greenhouse to rights.

“Neville,” Theo sighed, surveying the mess around them. It would take forever to repot the plants that had been displaced and clean the soil off the ceiling.

“Oops?” Neville offered, wincing in anticipation of what the other boys might say.

Draco smothered a laugh as he cast a charm to dispel the smoke lingering in the air, making it much easier to both see and breathe.

“What exactly were you casting?” he asked, casting a critical eye at the workstation in the center of the room, which seemed to be the epicenter of the destruction.

“A soil warming charm,” Neville answered, biting his lip. “Worked a little too well. Who knew peat was combustible?”

***

Harry approached Narcissa cautiously, but relaxed when he saw the blonde woman open her arms warmly to envelope him in a hug as soon as he’d cleared the gates.

“Harry, Harry,” she chided, clucking her tongue lightly as she led him down the path to Hogsmeade, one arm still wrapped around him. “Fighting with Draco and Lucius already?”

He choked out a laugh, giving her a pointed look before responding.

“Not at all,” he replied, drawing another chuckle from her. “I’m not fighting with either of them. They’re simply being idiots.”

She laughed outright at his candor, squeezing him lightly.

“That’s the spirit, Harry,” she said, surprising him by not defending her husband and son. “Did Draco tell you it’s Malfoy family tradition for the heir’s mother to take his future bride – or groom, as the case may be – aside before the wedding?”

Harry nodded slightly. They’d fought about that as well, and his heart sank when he realized Narcissa must be there to tell him what his role as a proper little Malfoy wife would be.

“Don’t look so down, Harry,” she said lightly, letting him open the door to the Three Broomsticks for her. She stepped inside, nodding to Madam Rosmerta, who ushered them into a private room Harry hadn’t known existed. “I have no doubt what Draco believes the purpose of this traditional chat to be, but he’s entirely wrong.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the blonde, murmuring his thanks to Madam Rosmerta when she entered the room with a tea for them.

“It’s true that generations of Malfoy women have taken their son’s intended aside for a heart-to-heart,” Narcissa said lightly as she poured them both steaming cups of tea. “But no Malfoy heir has ever actually asked what is said. It is believed that the mother outlines what is expected of a Malfoy, but that’s not the crux of these little discussions at all.”

Harry stared at her, wondering what her sly smile was about. She was clearly enjoying herself.

“I’m here to talk to you about Malfoy men, Harry, and how best to guide and control them,” her smile grew, her blue eyes flashing with amusement as she leaned forward, lowering her voice. “The Malfoys are a proud family.  _ That _ is what is expected of anyone who marries into the family. You will hold your head high, act in a manner befitting your station and, most importantly, you will keep Draco in line using whatever means necessary.”

Harry choked on his tea, wondering if he could possibly be hearing Narcissa correctly.  _ He _ was the one who would be the safeguard of the Malfoy name and manner?  _ He _ would be the one to control Draco, not the other way around?

“Oh Harry,” Narcissa said with a laugh, her hand covering his on the table. “If only you could see your face! Though I’m sure I looked much the same when I had this talk with Lucius’ mother.”

Harry’s mind whirled as he tried to process what she was saying.

“But my name? Won’t I –”

Narcissa shrugged, her thin shoulders rising and falling elegantly as she dismissed his concerns.

“Tradition dictates that, in the case of a same-sex union, the name of the partner with the oldest family will be adopted,” she said, and Harry’s shoulders sagged again. The Malfoys were an ancient family, one of the oldest. “Buck up, Harry. You are a Potter and a Black. Both families have lineages that go back as far as the Malfoy name does. I see no reason why either of you should change your name if you don’t want to.”

Harry brightened, taking another careful sip of tea. 

“I have no problem with Draco keeping his name, or with naming our first heir a Malfoy, assuming we have children,” he said, earning another beaming smile from his future mother-in-law.

“Excellent. Now that we’ve gotten that sorted, why don’t I share some of the tips that were handed down to me by Lucius’ mother? She really had some delicious ideas about … .”

***

Theo stood at the gates, fussing with his tie and feeling awkward in the Muggle suit he’d borrowed from Dean. The Muggle-born wizard had been given a stern dressing down by Hermione after the disastrous dinner with her parents, and he’d offered to help Theo with his plan in order to make up for it. He still teased Theo mercilessly about the dangerous dentists, but at least now Theo knew the boy was only joking.

He’d sent an owl to the Grangers earlier that afternoon, not wanting to show up unannounced on their doorstep – or in their hedges, as the case would be, since he’d be Apparating over. The owl had returned with a terse response that they’d be waiting for him, which had done little to settle his nerves.

He touched his pocket, reassuring himself that the ring box his grandmother had sent him was still there. Theo had a pure-blood lineage, but Hermione would not be the first Muggle-born who married into the family. His parents had been less than pleased that he wouldn’t be marrying a pure-blood, but they’d accepted it surprisingly well. After all, they had his older brother to count on for their pure-blood heir.

Theo’s biological grandfather had died just a few years after his father had been born, and his grandmother had remarried a few years later. He had grown up never knowing the wizard he thought of as his grandfather was neither his biological grandfather nor a pure-blood. It wasn’t until the second rise of Voldemort that his grandmother had told him, making Theo take a hard look at the Dark Lord’s ideology. He loved his grandfather, biological or not, so it hadn’t taken much thought for him to decide not to side with Voldemort. His family had officially been neutral during the war, but he knew they’d funneled money to the Order of the Phoenix over the years to help fight the dark bastard.

His grandmother was over the moon that he’d found what he assured her was his true love. After the debacle at Hermione’s parents’ house, she and his grandfather had been only too happy to share their own engagement story. His grandmother had gone a step further, sending him home with her engagement ring as well. 

Theo took a deep breath brought his destination to the front of his mind, Disapparating before he could talk himself out of what he was planning.

***

Harry stumbled into his rooms, slightly tipsy from the bottle of wine he and Narcissa had shared after they’d finished their tea. He hadn’t intended to spend so much time away, but that was hardly important, not after the talk he’d had with his future mother-in-law. He giggled when he knocked a framed picture off a low table, gasping in surprise when Draco wrenched open the bedroom door and fixed him with a hard look.

“Where the hell have you been?” the blond snapped, stalking across the room. “I had to make excuses for you in our last two classes, and you missed dinner, too.”

Harry grinned, lurching forward and giving Draco a sloppy kiss.

“You reek of wine, Potter,” Draco spat, pushing him away. “Were you with Mother this entire time?”

Harry nodded, his fingers fumbling to unbutton Draco’s shirt. It was, after all, his job to “handle” Draco; what better way than sex?

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, easily capturing Harry’s wrists and stilling his hands. The dark-haired boy had to be fairly drunk to have allowed it, Draco figured, his eyes narrowing as he studied Harry.

“Making up,” Harry slurred, leaning forward again to kiss Draco.

The tension left Draco’s posture as he released Harry’s wrists, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and pulling him closer. 

“So you’ve come to your senses, then,” he said, the relief clear in his voice. He should have known he could count on his mother.

“Of course not,” Harry answered, giggling again. “But  _ you _ will.”

He dropped to his knees before Draco could respond, running his tongue along the faint bulge in Draco’s trousers. Draco groaned as Harry’s hot breath washed over his hardening member, tantalizing even through the cloth of his trousers. Harry took advantage of his momentary surprise to unfasten his belt and trousers, tugging the lightweight wool down so it pooled at Draco’s ankles, his boxers soon following suit.

“Harry,” Draco said, the warning clear in his voice. 

“Mmm,” Harry answered, green eyes silently studying grey as he opened his mouth and sucked Draco’s half-hard cock into his mouth in one fluid motion. 

He relished the feel of Draco hardening underneath his tongue, loving the way his cock fully hardened almost immediately under the unexpected assault. Harry kept his eyes on Draco’s as he pulled back slightly, giving himself enough room to begin to slide his mouth up and down the blond’s hardened shaft.

“Potter,” Draco growled, his hands fisting at his sides to keep himself from burying them in Harry’s thick mass of hair.

Harry snaked one of his hands into his own trousers, impatiently unfastening them so he could grip his own cock. Draco looked so damn hot when he was flustered and aroused, and Harry couldn’t help but moan when those stormy silver eyes locked on his.

“Fuck,” Draco whined, bending his knees slightly as the reverberations from Harry’s moan ran through his cock.

Harry sped up his ministrations, raising a hand to cup Draco’s balls and knead the base of his cock as he continued to suck and stroke his length with his tongue. He could tell when Draco was close, since the blond’s thighs began to tremble.

“Harry, I’m –”

Hot spurts of come hit the back of Harry’s throat, triggering his own orgasm. He felt the warmth trickle over his fist as he gave Draco’s spasming cock another hard suck, making the blond whine again as a jolt shot through his oversensitive cock.

Harry pulled back, a satisfied smile on his face as he cast a Cleaning Charm over his hand and tucked himself back into his trousers. He pulled Draco’s boxers and trousers up, letting the blond fasten them himself.

“What was that about?” Draco asked, still slightly breathless from his orgasm.

“Missed you,” he said simply, accepting Draco’s arm to help him stand. Harry pressed a gentle kiss to Draco’s lips, letting the blond taste himself on his tongue.

“I missed you, too,” Draco said softly, leading him toward the sofa. He sprawled across it, pulling Harry down on top of himself.

“I want to marry you,” Harry said quietly, sighing when Draco stroked his neck. “But I won’t give up my name. It’s all I have left of my parents, Draco. You can’t ask me to give that up.”

Draco was silent, and Harry knew he was considering his words. He’d been completely honest with the blond. It might have been different if he’d grown up with his family, if his parents were still alive. But they weren’t, and he all he had to remember them by were a few foggy memories and his name. He knew Narcissa’s argument was much more logical, but he wanted Draco to agree because he understood, not because of a rational argument.

“Alright,” the blond sighed, cuddling Harry closer against his side. “I see your point. We’ll talk to Father in the morning.” 

Harry was silent, his drunken giddiness long gone. He stifled a smile, thinking about how easy it had been to redirect Draco. It had gone just the way Narcissa said it would.

“But you can’t expect to use sexual favors to get what you want in the future,” Draco cautioned, running his fingers through Harry’s hair lightly.

It hadn’t been one of Narcissa’s tips, of course, but Harry thought it had worked quite well, as far as distractions went.  _ Maybe being a Malfoy ‘wife’ won’t be so bad, _ Harry thought sleepily.

***

Theo forced himself to stand up straight as he rang the bell, giving himself a last-minute pep talk on the Granger’s front step. Worst case, they would throw him out. Best case, they’d give him permission to marry Hermione, permission he knew was important to her, Glumbumble or no. The venom didn’t invent new emotions, it merely magnified doubts and feelings that were already there. No doubt Hermione’s rational side thought asking her parents for their permission was outdated and unnecessary, but even she couldn’t deny that the need for approval  _ was  _ there, buried somewhere deep inside.

“Mr. Granger,” he said stiffly, politely bowing his head to the man who opened the door. “May I come in?”

For a moment he didn’t think the man would, but then he heard Hermione’s mother’s voice echo from inside.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, Hal, let the boy in!” She sounded so much like Hermione in her exasperation that Theo couldn’t help but smile.

He followed Hermione’s father into the now-familiar sitting room, pausing to bow to her mother formally before taking a seat across from the sofa where she was seated.

“Thank you for seeing me tonight,” he began tentatively. “I know you must be terribly angry with me, but there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Hermione’s parents looked at him, distrust clear on their faces.

“Hermione is not pregnant,” he said, noticing that both Grangers relaxed noticeably. “You were right that we were hiding something from you during our visit, though.”

He pulled the ring box from his pocket, so focused on not messing up what he was about to say that he didn’t see Hermione’s mother’s eyes warm or her father’s slight smile.

“We have different traditions in the wizarding world, which is no excuse for me not coming to you first, but I hope you’ll understand that it wasn’t meant as disrespect to either of you, just ignorance on my part.” He looked up, a burst of hope filling him when he saw Hermione’s mother’s eyes locked on the box in his hand, tears already forming.

“By wizarding standards, Hermione and I are already engaged. I wanted to come to you, though, to ask your permission. Your approval would mean the world to Hermione.”

He held the box out, opening it so they could see the startlingly clear imperial topaz stones set in the delicately wrought gold. The largest of the square-cut champagne-colored stones was set at the center, with two smaller stones flanking it on either side.

“I know diamonds are traditional, but this is my grandmother’s ring, and she is far from conventional. Like Hermione,” he said, a fond smile on his lips. “My grandmother married a Muggle-born when prejudice was a much greater problem than it is today. Topaz is said to have magical properties to dispel negativity.”

He tucked the ring back in his pocket, looking up at her parents. They no longer looked openly hostile, which he took as a sign to continue.

“Times are different now, but that doesn’t mean our relationship won’t face some adversity in the pure-blood circles. My parents approve of the marriage, and if you’ll give us your consent as well, then I’m sure we can face anything else easily.”

Hermione’s parents remained silent, and Theo swallowed, wondering if there was anything else he should say. The books weren’t very specific about how Muggles handled asking for someone’s hand in marriage, and he hoped he hadn’t botched it.

“Did I mention she’s  _ not _ pregnant?” he said in a small voice, blowing out a breath when Hermione’s father started to laugh.

Theo quickly found himself on his feet, shaking Mr. Granger’s hand before Mrs. Granger hugged him tearfully. This hadn’t been in the books, either, but he thought it was a good sign.

“If this is what Hermione wants, then I’m happy to give you my consent,” her father said, slapping Theo on the back.


	12. Chapter 12

Ginny stumbled into the kitchen, blinking sleepily when she saw her brother sitting at the table, a pot of tea and two cups in front of him. He pushed one to her, grinning from ear to ear when she took it and sipped without question. It wasn’t until she’d turned to toast some bread that she realized what she’d seen.

“Bill?” she shrieked, dropping the bread and whirling around, steaming tea sloshing over the rim of her mug.

“Morning, sis,” he said, an amused smirk on his face. She hadn’t seen him since her niece Victoire had been born a few months ago.

“Bill!” she put her cup on the counter, launching herself at her oldest brother. He managed to keep the chair upright when she barreled into him, but only just barely.

He laughed, hugging her tightly. He’d decided to surprise her instead of Ron for exactly this reason – he knew he could count on his little sister for a great reaction.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but what in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” she asked after a moment, settling into her own chair. Her brow furrowed. “And how did you get in? We set the wards last night.”

He grinned, leaning over to tug her messy ponytail just like he had when she was a child.

“Curse-breaker, remember? I’ve seen garden sheds warded better than that,” he teased, laughing at her hiss of outrage. “That’s part of why I’m here, actually. I’m the guest speaker in your Wards and Home Protections class tomorrow, and I’m helping out in another class today.”

Ginny beamed, catching his hand before he could tug on her ponytail again and twining her fingers through his. It reminded her of summers growing up; Bill used to get up early and spend the mornings with her when he was home from Hogwarts. It had been their special alone time, and she missed it fiercely.

“So you’re just here for a few days, then? I thought you might have brought Fleur and Victoire along,” she said, frowning in disappointment. Fleur sent pictures of the baby every week, but she had grown so much since she’d been born and Ginny could hardly wait to see her again.

Bill shook his head, his brown eyes sparkling as he thought about his wife and daughter. They were actually squirreled away at the Burrow, but Fleur had decided not to make the trip to Hogwarts. She wasn’t quite ready to leave Victoire yet, even with a woman who’d raised seven children herself.

“She may come along later, during Mum’s class,” Bill said, managing to tug on Ginny’s ponytail one more time before she leapt out of range. “You and Ronnikins could pop home for dinner. We’re spending the week at Mum and Dad’s.”

Ginny grinned, grabbing an apple from a bowl on the counter and dashing back toward her room. She heard Mandy rustling around in the bathroom, and she doubted her roommate would appreciate finding her older brother in the kitchen when she emerged.

“He’s a late riser, by the way,” she said with a smirk. “You could probably still catch him. I’ll see you in class later, right?”

Bill took his cue to leave with a good-natured laugh. Surprising Ron  _ was _ a pretty good idea.

“If not before,” he said, blowing her a kiss as he closed and re-warded the door.

***

“– and then the door opened, and Ron’s older brother was standing there!” Lavender whispered, her head buried in her arms.

Hannah covered her snicker with her hand, pretending to jot down the spell Professor Flitwick had just taught them. They’d learned quite a few helpful charms in the class, things that weren’t covered in the Hogwarts curriculum but were useful nonetheless. She kept an eye on the blackboard, waiting for him to get to the Bug Repellant charm. It was the only one in their homework she hadn’t been able to get on her own.

“Which one?” she asked, scooting closer so they could speak even softer.

“Does it matter?” Lavender hissed, lifting her flushed face out of her arms to glare at the Hufflepuff. Her mascara was streaky from tears of mortification, and Hannah set it right with a quietly muttered spell she’d learned from Mrs. Weasley.

“Of course it matters,” Hannah replied, nonplussed. “If it was George he’d tease you about it for the rest of your life. If it was Charlie –” she broke off, smiling dreamily “– you should have asked him to join in. And if it was Bill or Percy, there’s no hope for you.”

Lavender squeaked, her terrified expression telling Hannah everything she needed to know. Bill or Percy, then. She grinned, holding back a laugh. She’d guess Ron would be proposing within the week, given what had been witnessed. She hoped for their sakes it was Bill; Percy was a prat who wouldn’t hesitate to run straight to their parents.

“How do you know them so well anyway?” Lavender murmured from the safety of her arms, not even turning to face the girl she was talking to. 

“Ginny’s told me gobs of stories about her brothers. I spent a week there last summer, and everyone except Percy and Bill was there . They visited a few times, but enough for me to know you’re definitely buggered.”

Lavender groaned at her choice of words, confirming that she and Ron had in fact been interrupted doing what Hannah had suspected. She bit down another laugh, knowing she’d never get the whole story if she let herself giggle. 

***

By lunchtime practically everyone knew what Ron’s older brother had walked in on earlier that morning. Ron’s roommate, Kevin Entwhistle, had overheard the huge row that had resulted, and he hadn’t wasted any time telling everyone he knew.

“Bloody Ravenclaws,” Ron spat, glaring at the freckled boy who was sitting a few tables away. “Can’t keep a fucking secret to save their lives. Er, sorry, Luna. Prat said Bill barging in was a good thing, because it would force some introspection, whatever that means.”

The blonde Ravenclaw waved away his apology with a placid smile.

“Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens,” she said serenely.

Her statement was met by silence on all sides until Hermione snorted.

“Carl Jung,” she said, earning herself a nod of approval from Luna and blank stares from everyone else. “Muggle psychologist. Honestly, do any of you people  _ read?” _

Ron mumbled something unintelligible and grabbed a piece of fruit and a sandwich from the center of the table. Lavender had bolted for her rooms right after their last class, so he figured he should take her some lunch. No point in being miserable  _ and _ starving.

***

“Do you know anything about where we’re going today?” Draco asked, swooping in for another kiss before Harry could answer.

Harry mumbled something against Draco’s lips, making a feeble attempt to push the blond off of him. They were squirreled away in an alcove near their Muggle Practices and Traditions class, but if they didn’t leave now they’d be late. 

“We could skip it,” Draco whispered, kissing along Harry’s jaw before dipping down to nip lightly at his neck. 

“Can’t,” Harry answered, arching into Draco’s hot kisses even as he tried to push him away. “It’s a field trip day, Draco. We have to be there.”

Draco chuckled, grinding against Harry’s hip.

“We don’t  _ have _ to do anything,” he said, pushing Harry’s robes to the side so he could suck at the sensitive skin just beneath his collarbone. “This is an optional session. No grades.”

Harry whined softly as he tried to get his traitorous body under control. It was true that there were no official grades, but he still wanted to do well and learn as much as he could. And he definitely didn’t want to miss this particular class. The Dursleys had never given him permission to go on any of the field trips with his class in primary school, and he was loath to miss his first real field trip.

“Draco,” he warned, finally succeeding in dislodging the blond, who stumbled a few steps backward when Harry pushed him.

Draco blew out a breath and straightened his robes, looking up to make sure Harry was doing the same. If he had to endure this field trip, whatever  _ that _ was, he’d be presentable.

“Shall we?” he asked, holding his arm out for Harry, who took it with a laugh and pulled him toward the classroom.

***

“How was  _ I _ to know it was there for a reason?” Draco hissed, leaning heavily against the concrete wall. They were surrounded by a team of Obliviators who were systematically wiping the memories of the hundreds of Muggles who were also milling around the Underground station. “That annoying voice kept saying ‘Mind the Gap’. I thought I was doing them a  _ favor.” _

Bill sighed, resisting the urge to tear at his hair. When he’d agreed to help chaperone the Muggle Practices and Traditions field trip he’d thought the biggest challenge would be helping the students Transfigure their robes into appropriate Muggle clothing. Instead, he was helping the Ministry control the damage done when Draco had sealed the gap between the platform and the train, essentially trapping the cars in place. 

Bill blew out a breath. He knew Draco was terribly embarrassed by what had happened, and to be honest, he could see the reasoning behind what the Slytherin had done. Their field trip to ride the Tube through London had been ill-timed, something he blamed on the Muggle Studies professor. She should have known it would be rush hour. The forty minutes they’d spent shuttling between several trains before Draco’s “magical accident”, as it was being termed by the Ministry, had been marked by over-crowded train cars, rude Muggles and fast-moving crowds that had made it difficult for their rather large group to stay together.

“– take full responsibility, of course.” Bill could hear Professor Spector speaking with the Aurors who’d been sent out to supervise the Obliviations. The Ministry had already hatched a cover story, implanting memories of a mechanical failure in the Muggles’ minds. The Muggle news was already reporting the break-down, which had caused massive delays throughout the Underground system, gumming up the works spectacularly at the height of rush hour. 

The Auror talking with the professor nodded, a Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling furiously in the air next to them as he took her statement. They’d already interviewed Draco, who’d been given a citation for accidental use of magic in front of Muggles and sent on his way. 

“Seriously, Harry,” Draco muttered, crossing his arms tightly. “How was I to  _ know _ ?”

Harry murmured something soothing as he ran a comforting hand over Draco’s arm. Draco had been a model citizen since the end of the war, and he knew his fiancé was worried about the backlash that was sure to happen if the incident was publicized in the newspapers.

Hermione was buzzing around the tunnel, talking with several different Ministry employees. Harry watched her out of the corner of his eye, his attention focused on Draco despite his curiosity. Both boys turned to look at her when she approached them, huffing angrily and throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“Honestly, you’d think this was some sort of extremist plot instead of a school field trip gone awry,” she spat, glaring at the scarlet-robed Auror who had glanced her way. She’d been suspicious when she saw his lips moving as he stood off to himself. “I hadn’t wanted to do this, of course, since I know how you hate it, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to.”

Harry blanched, nodding slightly. He knew exactly what she was talking about, though Draco, whose brow was furrowed in confusion, had no idea. 

“I rather thought Minister Shacklebolt had made it clear that any incidents involving Harry Potter were to be classified,” she said, her voice pitched louder this time. The eavesdropping Auror blushed, and several other Ministry employees shifted uncomfortably. 

When none of them spoke up, she grabbed Harry’s shoulder and pushed him forward, her eyes flashing with anger. She nodded when she saw Ron raise his wand and shoot off a Patronus. They all knew the protocol for incidents involving Harry. Though this one didn’t technically stem from one of the magical accidents that still plagued Harry from time to time, she had no doubt that Kingsley would extend the media amnesty he’d granted to any of Harry’s friends, including Draco, since Harry was with them at the time.

“ _ This _ , since apparently most of you failed to notice, is  _ Harry Potter _ . That means that any incident reports from today are classified. Anyone caught sharing them with the media will answer to Minister Shacklebolt.”

A murmur shot through the crowd of twenty or so Ministry employees. None seemed to take her warning to heart, and she couldn’t hold back her smirk when Kingsley’s easily identifiable lynx Patronus swept into the room. 

“This incident is classified by order of the Minister for Magic,” Kingsley’s disembodied voice boomed. “Anyone who shares information with unauthorized sources will be subjected to a disciplinary hearing.”

The Auror Hermione had been watching paled abruptly, his wide-eyed gaze darting around the tunnel. It was all the proof Hermione needed to act on her suspicion. She elbowed Harry, whispering in his ear. She didn’t have the power to cast a blanket spell of that nature, but  _ he _ did.

“ _ Animagus Resero _ !” he yelled, causing the assembled witches and wizards, the only ones left on the platform now that the Muggles had been sorted and sent on their way, to jump.

As she’d suspected, there was a loud pop followed by a heartfelt curse. Rita Skeeter lay on the ground, rubbing at her head, which had hit the pavement when she’d fallen from the Auror’s shoulder after being forced from her beetle form.

“Perfect,” Bill muttered, kicking the bench he was standing next to. He just _ knew _ this was going to result in even more paperwork.

***

Harry lifted his glass, shushing the chattering crowd gathered around the old farmhouse table he and Draco had chosen for their dining room. Narcissa had helped them transport all the furniture to their new home from the Manor, and she and Draco had spent the better part of last weekend arranging it to their exacting specifications. 

“To Hermione, for saving us a good deal of embarrassment at the hands of that blasted Skeeter woman,” he said, tipping his glass toward hers with a wink. She blushed, but returned the gesture.

“Truly,” Draco said, raising his glass as well. “I owe you a great debt.” He gave a half bow, which managed to look elegant and refined despite the fact that he was seated, and tipped his glass to her as well.

“To Hermione!” the group cried, raising their glasses and drinking heartily. 

Harry had invited everyone to their home for an impromptu dinner after their disastrous field trip, which had been scheduled to take two hours but had managed to eat up the entire afternoon and much of the early evening. By the time the Aurors had let everyone go – several hours after the reporter had been revealed, just as Bill had predicted – the students had been starving.

“Remind me to thank Narcissa for lending us those house-elves,” Harry whispered in Draco’s ear when the group tucked back into the feast in front of them. In true Gryffindor fashion, he’d made the invitation without giving a thought to exactly how they would feed a crowd of nearly twenty hungry people. After heaving a heavy sigh and rolling his eyes, muttering about the boorish, ill-mannered idiots, Draco had Flooed the Manor and asked to borrow Midgie and Tully, two of the elves he knew to be excellent – and fast – cooks.

Of course, it hadn’t ended there. They had barely started furnishing the house, which meant there were no pots or pans in the kitchen, and certainly no dinnerware to serve their guests on. Or food. But Narcissa had graciously arranged for all of it, giving Harry a knowing wink when she’d Apparated into the kitchen with several boxes that had been shrunken for transport.

“I assume this wasn’t just a whim of yours?” Narcissa had said when Draco was out of earshot. 

Harry had explained the afternoon’s events, leaving out no detail. By the end of the short story, Narcissa was smirking, her blue eyes dancing with amusement.

“Be sure to give Hermione my thanks. We owe her a debt of gratitude. Perhaps an offer of our assistance for the future?”

Harry had grinned, knowing exactly what she’d been referring to. Gossip in pure-blood circles traveled fast. He was sure the offer would be much appreciated when the time came.

Harry blinked, focusing his attention on the dinner party. They were about ready for dessert, he judged, but as he stood to clear away plates to make room for the trifle the house-elves had made Theo motioned to him. The dark-haired wizard grinned, nudging Draco in the ribs. The blond’s annoyance quickly turned to excitement when Harry nodded toward Theo, and Draco jumped up to help Harry gather plates and cups.

Harry dimmed the electric lights, boosting the flames on the candles that had burnt to nubs scattered down the center of the long table. Their friends quieted immediately, gaping when Theo stood and pulled Hermione out of her chair. He knelt before her, clasping one of her hands in both of his.

He paused, his heart thudding heavily in his chest as he studied the woman standing before him. Her eyes were filled with tears, and he could feel the hand he held between his trembling.

“Hermione, you have a brilliant mind and a beautiful spirit. You have gifted me with your love, your acceptance. Knowledge is empty without context, Hermione, and  _ you  _ are my context.”

Theo took a deep breath, steeling himself to finish. He’d chosen this moment at random, but it had felt like the right time. Almost everyone who was important to Hermione was gathered there tonight, and he knew he’d never find a better opportunity. He squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye as he began to recite the poem Harry had helped him find.

“When I have fears that I may cease to be   
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,   
Before high-piled books, in charact’ry,   
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;   
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,   
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,   
And think that I may never live to trace   
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;   
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,   
That I shall never look upon thee more,   
Never have relish in the faery power   
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore   
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think   
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.”

“I chose the words of John Keats, not for romance, but for illustration,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. The room was hushed, his words easily traveling through the large dining room. Hermione took a hitched breath, a single tear making its way down her cheek. “The magic he writes of exists, not just in our world, but in our ability to love and share ourselves with each other fully. I do not fear death, only the loss of your love.”

He smiled, pulling one of his hands away and delving into his pocket. He drew out the small box he’d taken to the Grangers the week before, opening it one-handed with some difficulty, but unwilling to release his grip on hers.

“There was no poetry in my soul before you, Hermione Jean Granger. Will you marry me?”

Hermione’s entire focus had narrowed to the man kneeling in front of her. When he pulled out the ring box she felt her knees nearly give out. This was the moment she’d wanted, the moment she’d been so sure she’d lost by falling into an accidental engagement with a practical, logical pure-blood wizard. There was no pageantry and pomp in wizarding engagements; she had accepted that. But here he was, on bended knee, reciting poetry and words of love in front of all of their friends and holding out the most gorgeous ring she had ever seen.

She swallowed, desperately trying to wet her painfully dry throat. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, its rhythm at odds with the flutters in her stomach.

“I , I –” she couldn’t force her tongue to move, couldn’t find the words she wanted in her mind. She blinked again, feeling as though time had slowed down. Words were her friends – her only friends at times. How odd to be deserted by them at the time she needed them most, she thought abstractly as she stared down at Theo.

Instead of bristling at her hesitation, Theo offered her a warm smile. He released her hand, gently prying the beautiful ring from the box and slipping it on her finger. The pale topaz stones glittered in the candlelight.

“I’ve been to your parents,” he said quietly, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “We have their permission, and their apologies for jumping to conclusions. I’ve assured them they have no call to worry, not for several years, at least.”

Hermione’s tears spilled over at the words, and she dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around Theo’s neck. She peppered his face with kisses, finally finding released from her shocked stupor.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Say it with me now, “aww”! The poem isn’t mine. It’s a sonnet called “When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be” by English poet John Keats, published in 1818.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry let his head hit the table with a resounding thunk, the momentary pain a welcome relief from the monotony of the lecture. Beside him Ron was fast asleep, a trail of drool connecting his mouth and the desktop. They were nearing the end of an extremely dry Business Etiquette in the Wizarding World class, and Harry was questioning his sanity for taking the class in the first place.

He sighed, straightening in his chair and making an effort to pay attention. He was here because Draco was someday going to head Malfoy Industries, and he had to be able to play the consummate spouse at an endless array of business dinners, galas and board meetings. Narcissa had made it clear that this was extremely important knowledge, and though Harry was loath to admit it, he knew it was true. Even if he had his own career, which he fully intended to do, he would play a role in Malfoy Industries. Lucius had offered him his pick of several positions, but he didn’t want to be directly involved with any of the Malfoy companies. Too stuffy. He wasn’t cut out for life as an executive. But life as an executive’s spouse? He didn’t have a choice there.

“Miss Granger,” today’s lecturer – Harry couldn’t remember his name – called from the front of the room. “You have been tasked with wining and dining emissaries from the Japanese Ministry for Magic. What is the protocol?”

Hermione frowned, tapping her quill against her desk. The differences between business relations in the Muggle and wizarding world were fascinating to her, though for all she knew Muggle business etiquette might be as complicated as the wizarding counterpart. She doubted it, though. As a whole, Muggles were far less set on ceremony than wizards.

“I greet them in their native language – in this case, Japanese – and offer to provide a local guide who can see to all of their needs,” she said. “I also offer to cast Translation Charms for the duration of their stay.”

“In most cases that would be correct, Miss Granger, but there are several notable exceptions, of which Japan is one. Japanese witches and wizards pride themselves on being good guests as well as hosts and will always greet you in your native language. Addressing them in Japanese would be an insult. This is true for several other … .”

Harry zoned out, letting his attention wander again. Honestly, could anyone be expected to remember all this useless trivia? The first few weeks of the class had focused on things that he’d seen the application for – like how to conduct yourself in business or board meetings. But the last week had been guest lecturers droning on about “special cases”, and he was sick of it. Did he need to know this? He was beginning to wonder what life as a Malfoy would really be like.

He bolted from his seat the moment the lecture ended, not even bothering to wake Ron. The class was even more of a waste for him, since he was entering Auror Academy at the end of the summer. No one expected Aurors to know how to act at affairs of state.

Harry skirted the Great Hall, not in the mood to eat lunch. He headed to his quarters instead, intent on Firecalling Narcissa to find out how many times  _ she’d _ needed to address Japanese businessmen in her marriage to Lucius.

***

The classroom was dark when Ron awoke. He sat up quickly, wincing at the crick in his neck from the uncomfortable position. He whirled around when he realized the similar pain in his arse was from a Stinging Hex.

“Thought you might stay there all afternoon without a little help,” Ginny drawled from the open doorway, rolling her eyes. “You’ve missed lunch, by the way. And your next class.”

Ron’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed that he’d managed to sleep away most of the afternoon. Why hadn’t Harry or Hermione woken him when their Business Etiquette class ended? He stretched surreptitiously, keeping a wary eye on Ginny lest she think another hex was in order, grabbed his bag and stood.

“Everyone’s in Mum’s class right now,” Ginny said, taking pity on her disheveled brother and sheathing her wand. “You should go clean up before Wards. Bill said something about coming back to lecture again today, and you don’t want  _ him _ seeing you like this.”

Ron blanched. It had been a few days since Bill had walked in on him with Lavender, but his older brother hadn’t been idle. He’d convened a meeting of all their elder siblings, filing them in on what Ron had been up to. The four men – even Charlie had come for the discussion – had decided to give him a week to either propose to Lavender or break things off with her. If he didn’t make his decision soon, his brothers were going to their parents – which meant he’d be engaged by the end of the day, no matter what his  _ or _ Lavender’s feelings on it.

Ron mumbled something under his breath, pushing past Ginny as he left the room. She gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder, knowing how conflicted her brother was over the decision that had been forced on him. She’d talked with Lavender as well, and she’d made it clear to Ginny that she didn’t mind not being engaged. Her parents were stricter than the Weasleys, though, and if word of this got to them – which it inevitably would if Ron’s brothers talked to their parents – then she’d have no choice in the matter, either.

“ _ House-elves  _ have more rights than pure-blood witches and wizards,” Lavender had complained, drawing Ginny’s sympathy and Hermione’s ire. Though the newly betrothed Hermione had bemoaned her own status, she felt that Ron and Lavender, both of whom knew the pure-blood courtship rules, had made their own bed.

“Draco sent this along for you,” Ginny said, catching up to her brother in the corridor and pressing a small purple vial into his hand. “Dreamless Sleep. You’ve been a zombie lately. A good night’s sleep will help.”

Ron nodded mechanically, pocketing the vial and continuing on his way. Ginny watched him for a moment, a frown on her face, before turning and heading the opposite direction. She had no hope of slipping into her mum’s class unnoticed, and she’d only make things worse for herself the later she was.

***

Harry found Hermione surrounded by a veritable mountain of books, her Quick Quotes Quill scratching furiously against a roll of parchment as she dictated. He paused just out of her line of sight, smiling to himself when he realized she was researching wedding customs.

“I could help with that,” he said softly, startling her when he took an empty seat at her table.

“Jesus! Harry –” she blushed, frowning at the quill when she realized it had just transcribed her words. “ _ Finite _ . You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

He laughed, pulling a book off of the smallest stack and flipping through it. He’d read up on the basics, of course, but Narcissa was the one in charge of planning the bulk of their wedding. All he and Draco had to do was show up and memorize the necessary vows and spells. 

“I just want to be prepared,” Hermione said quickly, snatching the book out of Harry’s hand. Her cheeks were blazing with color at being caught out planning for her wedding.

“About that,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair and balancing it precariously on two legs. He let it fall back quickly when Madam Pince cleared her throat. “The wedding, I mean. Traditionally the bride’s parents do the bulk of the preparation –”

“I’m not some blushing medieval bride, Harry,” she snapped, her brown eyes flashing. “No dowry or chastity belt, either. Honestly, I’d have thought  _ you  _ of all people would see past the archaic traditions!”

Harry rolled his eyes, reaching across the table to grab her flailing hands. She quieted immediately, glaring at him fiercely.

“As I was  _ saying _ ,” he said, eyeing her meaningfully as he dared her to interrupt again. “Traditionally the bride’s parents take on the planning and cost of the ceremony. I’m sure Theo’s family would be happy to, since your parents obviously would struggle with the  _ archaic traditions _ , but they really haven’t much money and you and Theo deserve something wonderful. Narcissa has offered her assistance, if you’re willing.”

Hermione blinked in shock, his words penetrating her fog of outrage. She’d been getting increasingly nervous about the ceremony as she read more about the elaborate ceremonies most pure-blood families put on. Even though Theo wasn’t the Nott family heir she knew there were certain traditions that still had to be followed. She’d been surprised his family approved of their engagement, since she was Muggleborn, but they’d accepted her with open arms.

Harry watched his friend struggle for words and took pity on her, filling the awkward silence.

“I know it all sounds archaic – hell, Draco and I have to jump through even  _ more _ hoops at our ceremony because we’re both heirs – but it’s important to Theo and his family. I have no doubt he’d agree to a completely Muggle ceremony if that’s what you wanted, but he’s been raised with these traditions, and they’re important to him. They’re part of who he is and part of who you two will be together,” he said, his teasing manner gone. 

He’d realized the same held true for Draco’s business dealings earlier that afternoon after a good deal of brooding and thought. Narcissa had been firm but clear in his Firecall to her the day before, lending a sympathetic ear to his frustrations but reminding him how important Malfoy Industries was to Draco, and therefore to Harry. He still wasn’t thrilled about memorizing gobs of etiquette rules, but he did concede it was necessary.

“It’s like this,” Harry said, leaning in so close their heads were almost touching. Anyone walking in would assume they were passing secrets. “You love him, and the actual wedding isn’t terribly important to you. I know it’s not. You’d probably rather elope.”

Hermione nodded, a faint smile on her lips. Harry was right. She  _ would _ rather elope. But he was also right that this wedding meant a lot to Theo and his family. That was the reason she’d been in the library frantically researching old customs. She didn’t want to make a misstep and horribly offend her new family, but she also wanted to find out just how little pomp and circumstance they could get away with.

“But you obviously care enough to at least find out what is expected of you, or you wouldn’t be doing this,” Harry said, motioning toward the pile of books and scrolls on the table. “We – well, Narcissa, mostly – can help, both with the planning and with the financial aspect. A lot of the stuff you’re reading about won’t be necessary, but you  _ will _ have to use some of the traditional binding spells and language. There’s also a whole protocol for the flowers alone.”

Harry rolled his eyes, remembering his latest wedding conversation with Narcissa about the meaning of different flowers. He’d brushed it all off until Neville had cut him off the next day when he was complaining about it at lunch, telling him there actually  _ was _ a language to flowers and that it played an important part in pure-blood etiquette. Neville had taken him out to the greenhouse and proceeded to spend the next two hours educating him. The bouquet they’d picked for Narcissa – bluebells for humility, purple hyacinth for apology and daffodils for respect – had gone a long way to mend his fences with his future mother-in-law.

He held up a hand when he saw Hermione being to protest, cutting her off again. The cost of a wedding to a family like the Notts, or even the Grangers, would be astronomical. To a family like the Malfoys, though, it wouldn’t be more than a drop in the bucket. Added to the fact that he’d fully intended to use his Black inheritance to help pay for her wedding anyway, as well as any of their other friends who needed the help, and he cut her arguments down quite easily. She looked both touched and slightly irate at his reasoning, so Harry went in for the kill before she could speak.

“You’re my family, Hermione. You, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna – sometimes you were all I had. Narcissa wants to do this for you as thanks for looking out for me before I found Draco. And for your help in that incident on the Tube. You and Theo should think about it.”

Hermione bit her lip, her protests silenced by Harry’s words. They  _ were _ like family. And some of the things she’d read about hadn’t been horrible – a few of the traditions actually sounded quite nice.

“Alright,” she said, smiling tentatively. “I’ll talk with Theo about it. It  _ would _ be lovely to have some help.”

***

Out by the lake, Lavender and Ron were having a very different discussion about marriage.

“It’s not that I don’t love you, I do,” Lavender said, shredding a blade of grass as she looked down, unable to meet Ron’s eye. “I just don’t want to be married right now. Not to you, not to anyone.”

Ron swallowed, a curious sense of relief sweeping through him. He felt exactly the same way. Bill had called it cruel, saying he was hanging on to his relationship with Lavender until something better came along, but that wasn’t it at all. He loved Lavender, and he wasn’t interested in being with anyone else. He just wasn’t ready to commit to anyone at the moment.

“I understand,” he said, smiling ruefully when Lavender’s head snapped up, a very familiar look of relief on her face. “I don’t want to lose what I have with you, but I don’t want to be forced into a marriage that neither of us is ready for, either.”

Lavender blinked back tears, her lower lip trembling as she tried to stay calm. He was right, of course. After what his brother had walked in on, their only choices were to stop seeing each other or to get married. Hardly a choice at all, given how they felt about getting engaged.

“Ron –”

She broke off, startled, when Ginny flopped down between them. The redheaded witch was grinning from ear to ear, a pile of photographs in her hand.

“Don’t mind me,” she said cheekily, stretching out and enjoying the feel of the warm sun against her skin. “I’m just here to solve your problems.”

Lavender brushed at her tears, smearing them against the back of her hand. Ron was glaring at his sister furiously, his already flushed face going scarlet at her intrusion.

“Merlin, what the hell are you doing?” he snapped, sitting up straighter and drawing his own hand surreptitiously across his eyes.

“Aren’t you sweet,” Ginny cooed, letting the photos fall into her brother’s lap. “But you don’t have to call me Merlin. Ginny will do.”

Lavender’s retort was lost when Ron finally looked at the photos, his sharply indrawn breath cutting her off. She leaned over, a wicked grin splitting her face when she realized what they were.

“And  _ that _ is how it is done, brother dear,” Ginny smirked, pushing herself up off the ground and brushing at the grass on her robes. “Proof that Bill, George  _ and _ Percy were all in similar situations with women who definitely did  _ not _ turn out to be their wives. Charlie’ll fall into line, too, I’m sure.”

Ginny drew her wand, twirling it like the pistol they’ d seen in a Muggle cowboy movie last week during their Muggle Studies class. She blew lightly across the tip, shoving it back into her wrist holster.

“I’m the youngest of seven children and the only girl. I have  _ skills _ ,” she said as she strutted back toward the castle, leaving Lavender and Ron gaping. “No need to thank me, Ronnikins. Just remember this if you’re ever tempted to try to pull that kind of stunt on  _ me _ .”

***

It wasn’t until their Animagus class the next day that anyone realized Luna was missing. Hermione, who usually sat with her in classes and at lunch, hadn’t noticed her former roommate’s absence, since she’d been so caught up in researching pure-blood wedding customs. Harry and Draco had been lost in their fight about Harry’s role as a Malfoy spouse, and Ron and Ginny had been busy trying to stall their brothers. 

Everyone who had regular contact with the Ravenclaw had been preoccupied. As a result, they couldn’t even pinpoint a time they’d last seen her when the Headmistress questioned them.

“And no one has  _ any _ idea where she might have gone?” McGonagall asked, her face pinched. “Visiting relatives, perhaps?”

Harry shook his head, his concern for his friend clear in his clouded gaze. 

“No, I checked with her father. She’s not there, and he’s not expecting her, either.”

Hermione bit her lip, forcing back the tears that threatened. She blamed herself that no one had noticed Luna’s disappearance until now; if she’d still been her roommate, they’d have known immediately when she’d gone missing.

“She doesn’t have any family,” Hermione said quietly. “Her father was an only child, and both her mother and her aunt died years ago.”

“Grandparents?” the Headmistress asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“Died before she was born,” Draco answered, earning himself baffled looks from everyone in the room. “What? We talk a lot. We have the same free periods.”

“Did she say anything strange, Draco?” Ginny asked, her attention fixed on him. “Anything that might explain why she’s left?”

Draco laughed, shaking his head. 

“This is  _ Lovegood _ we’re talking about.  _ Everything _ she says is strange. But no, she didn’t mention anything that made me think she’d be leaving suddenly,” he said, his grin slipping off his face as he realized she could be anywhere.

“We’re going to go talk with Xeno,” Harry said, tugging on Draco’s hand. They’d both been to the Lovegood’s home before and would have no trouble Apparating there. “Maybe he can give us some ideas about where to look.”


	14. Chapter 14

If George noticed that most of the class wasn’t paying attention he didn’t address it. His lecture on preparing business proposals was by far one of the most animated – in some cases literally, with the help of some WWW products – they’d had all summer in their Business Etiquette class, but more than half of the students were too lost in their thoughts to care.

Luna had been missing for an entire week and they were no closer to finding her than they had been that first day. Her father had even refused to report her missing, saying he had faith in his daughter’s instincts, and if she was hiding herself away then it was for a good reason.

“I can stay if you think –”

Harry cut Hermione’s hushed words with a sharp shake of his head. She and Theo both had interviews at Cambridge over the weekend for scholarships. It wasn’t worth them forfeiting on the much-needed funds, not when no one had any clue as to where Luna might even be. Both of them had already declined Harry and Draco’s offer of financial assistance for University, saying paying for their wedding was more than enough help.

“Draco and I are going out again,” he answered, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t attract George’s attention. 

Hermione shot him a troubled glance before straightening in her chair. George was writing something on the board now – homework for next week, it looked like. She wrinkled her nose as she read the words. They needed to pair off and create a business proposal to present.

“I didn’t want to say anything to anyone else, but do you think she  _ wants _ to be found?” Hermione asked, scooting her chair closer to Harry’s and holding her hand in the air, claiming him as a partner. She heard both Hannah and Ron groan.

Harry shrugged slightly, absently opening and closing the book in front of him. Hermione winced at the cracking sound the spine made every time he did it. He’d considered the possibility that Luna had disappeared on purpose, but he found it hard to believe she wouldn’t have left him some sort of message.

“It’s possible. But we’re going anyway. Draco’s gotten the visas we need to go back to that forest in Sweden.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed at the comment. One of the first things they’d done had been to check with the Swedish Embassy to see if Luna had gotten a permit to search for Snorkacks again, but the witch in the records department hadn’t found any trace of her. Even Luna wasn’t scatterbrained enough to try to enter a foreign country without permission, which meant it was very unlikely she was there.

“I know,” Harry said, answering her unspoken question. “But I’ll go crazy if I just sit here and wait. I feel like we ought to be out there  _ doing _ something.”

Hermione’s response was cut off by George dismissing the class. Their desk was almost instantly swamped by half a dozen of their friends, all asking about Luna. Her disappearance was common knowledge, since her absence from classes had been noted, but only a few knew that she’d not warned anyone before leaving. They quieted when Seamus, who wasn’t in the class, pushed his way through the throng of students leaving the room, his sandy head craning over them to find Harry.

“I’ve a letter from my grandmother,” Seamus said, pushing a scroll with a pleasant, earthy scent into Harry’s hands once he’d reached him. “She can take you to Luna.”

***

Harry ducked his head under the hot spray, letting the stress of the last week seep out of his tired and tense body to be washed away with the water coursing down his body. He hadn’t talked to her yet, but now he at least knew where Luna was. His anger at her sudden disappearance was tempered by his concern for her, which had only amplified after Seamus’ grandmother’s letter.

“Care for company?” 

Harry’s lips curved into a smile at the sound of Draco’s voice. He’d been hoping the blond would find his way back to their rooms while he was showering, though the speed at which he had returned likely meant Draco had been as unproductive as Harry had been. There was no way Draco could have stabilized his potion and cleared away his workstation this quickly. Harry had only sent the elf about ten minutes ago.

“Of course,” Harry answered, his eyes still shut as the water beat down on his head, flattening his unruly hair and relieving the tension headache he’d had earlier.

“We owe Finnigan a debt,” Draco murmured as he stepped into the large shower cubicle, his arms wrapping around Harry’s deliciously warm, naked body. He felt Harry shiver as his lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “I assume his grandmother is arranging a visit for us?”

Harry made a noncommittal sound that Draco took for agreement. The pliant way his lover’s body was wrapping around him gave him an even more conclusive answer; Harry hadn’t been in the mood for sex since Luna’s disappearance, but it appeared his libido had returned with a vengeance.

“Tomorrow, then?” Draco pressed, trying to get the answers he was looking for out of Harry before the burgeoning erection trapped against his thigh made coherency impossible.

“After breakfast,” Harry answered, leaning back into Draco’s arms and relishing the feel of flesh against flesh. He knew without looking that the water was too hot for Draco; his pale skin would be flushed already. Harry reached a hand out and adjusted the temperature, snuggling closer to Draco to replace the lost heat. “Seamus will Apparate us there.”

Draco dipped his head and lightly bit the cord of muscle between Harry’s neck and shoulder, using his tongue to sooth it as soon as his teeth released the skin. Harry groaned wordlessly at the sharp nip, sending the last bit of blood from Draco’s head straight to his cock.

He gave up any hope for conversation when he reached for the soap, squirting a generous amount of the sandalwood scented concoction he brewed himself into his palm. Draco reached down, cupping Harry’s now-fully hardened erection in his hand, letting the soap increase the friction as he stroked him, gently at first and then harder as his desperation grew.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered, leaning heavily against the solid body behind him. His knees couldn’t have been more unstable had he been hit with a Jelly Legs Jinx.

“Later,” Draco promised, his slim fingers lost in the lather that obscured Harry’s cock, his own neglected erection twitching in sympathy as Harry moaned again at a particularly hard stroke. He kept the pace up until both of them were panting and Harry tensed against him, painting the shower wall with his release.

Draco released Harry’s cock, bringing his arm up to support the dark-haired wizard. They stood there for long moments, the now lukewarm spray washing the sandalwood-scented suds down the drain at their feet. 

“Enough?” Draco asked, his unexpected question making Harry jump.

“Mmm,” Harry agreed, pushing away from Draco and standing on his own for the first time since Draco had entered the shower. “ ‘S getting cold.”

Draco turned the taps off and stepped out of the cubicle, wrapping a thick towel around his waist and tossing another one to Harry. His lover had other ideas, apparently, since Harry threw his towel aside and threw himself forward, forcing Draco’s hips to rest against the counter behind him.

Without a word, Harry tugged the towel from Draco’s slim waist, exposing his erection. Moments later Harry was on his knees in front of him, his tongue darting out to circle the reddened flesh teasingly before taking as much as the length as he could manage into his mouth.

“Jesus,” Draco hissed, his hands closing around the tile edge behind him to keep himself from thrusting forward into Harry’s mouth. 

Harry just chuckled, drawing another oath from Draco as the vibrations tingled their way up his cock. Soon he was whimpering nearly soundlessly as Harry bobbed up and down his erection, his talented tongue pressing teasingly against the sensitive vein underneath. Draco gave no warning before exploding in his mouth, sending ribbons of thick, salty come down Harry’s throat. 

Harry kept sucking and stroking Draco’s cock through his orgasm, knowing exactly what the blond liked. The moment Draco began to whine he released him, burying his nose in Draco’s groin to breathe in the clean, musky scent of his arousal before pressing a light kiss to his balls and standing up.

“I love you,” Draco whispered, pulling Harry close for a slow, gentle kiss.

***

Seamus watched Susan out of the corner of his eye as he shoved a few hastily chosen items into a duffel bag for his unexpected weekend away. He’d be leaving in the morning to take Harry and Draco to his grandmother’s house, and he knew his family well enough to know he’d be expected to stay.

“You can come,” he said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Susan drew her legs up, wrapping her arms tightly around them. 

“You never said there was Seer blood in your family,” she said, her tone accusing.

Seamus sighed, hesitating over adding a light jumper to the pile. It could get quite cold in the mornings at his grandmother’s house on the coast. Deciding to carry it with him instead of packing it, he set aside, making a mental note to be sure Harry and Draco grabbed something similar in the morning before they left.

“I never said there wasn’t, either,” he bit out, his teeth clamping down on his lip to keep himself from saying anything else. Susan had been cold and distant since he’d told her about his grandmother's letter. Her accusations weren’t spot on, but they were close enough to be uncomfortable.

“What else are you hiding, Seamus?” she asked, her voice trembling as the first tear welled up and spilled down her cheek.

“ _ I’m _ not a Seer, if that’s what you mean,” he snapped, tired of her questions but also tired of having to hide who he was, however well-intentioned the reasons.

“You wouldn’t be,” Susan said, surprising him. “You’re male. But you could have a daughter who was.”

Seamus turned, narrowing his eyes as he looked at her in a new light. True Seers – those who not only could divine the future but also saw the world on a different plane – were incredibly rare. Both parents had to have Seer blood for it to manifest itself, and even then it only happened if the first-born child was a girl. Not many knew about the line of succession of true Seers.

“My mum’s side of the family,” she said, her lips pursed into a grimace. “The last was my great-great Aunt Celestine.”

Seamus let the ball of socks he’d been holding fall back to the bed. From the tone of her voice he could imagine what had become of great-great Aunt Celestine. It was a fate only a blessed few were able to avoid, but at steep personal cost.

“Thirteen,” Susan said, her voice hollow. “She was thirteen when she went mad, twenty when she killed herself. Luna’s mum was twenty-seven. Her aunt –”

She let out a startled squeak when Seamus settled on the hearth next to her, bumping her arms.

“Her aunt is alive, actually,” he said, knowing his grandmother would be furious at him for sharing this but feeling it was necessary. Just because men couldn’t be Seers didn’t mean his blood was completely inert. He knew where this was going, but he felt compelled to tell her anyway, if only to ease her mind for the future. “My mother’s family has Fae blood. We are the Caomhnóir. The guardians of the Seers.”

***

Harry was grateful for his thick sweater, tucking it tightly around himself as he got his bearings. Seamus had told them only that his grandmother lived somewhere on the coast in Connemara. His warning that it would be windy, damp and chilly had seemed like overkill to both Harry and Draco earlier that morning, but both were glad they had heeded his advice to pack warm clothing.

Draco looked around, startled by the barren landscape. A few meters in front of them a small wooden building – recognizable as such only because of the golden glow from its windows – was perched on a cliff that looked like little more than an outcropping of rock, overlooking what Draco assumed was the ocean. The fog was so thick he couldn’t be sure. He followed Seamus’ lead, gingerly picking his way across the loose rocks. As they grew closer, he could see more detail of the cabin, noting that it was perfectly integrated into the landscape as though it had simply grown out of the rock.

The door opened before they climbed the wide porch, the light spilling out of the cabin framing the slender white-haired woman who appeared there with in an unearthly glow.

“This is my grandmother, Catriona,” Seamus said, pressing a kiss to the woman’s wrinkled cheek and leaving both of his hands in hers. They seemed to exchange some sort of silent communication as they stared at each other for several long moments before she leaned forward and whispered something in his ear, causing him to grimace as he released her.

Harry started to extend a hand to offer the elderly woman, but Draco held him back when Seamus shook his head, stepping in front of his grandmother almost protectively. Instead, the blond bowed deeply, his own hands clasped behind his back. Harry followed suit.

“I apologize if that seemed rude,” Seamus said as they followed the white-haired woman into a cozy kitchen with a huge hearth that covered most of one of the walls. “Only a select few outside the family has touched Cati in nearly fifty years.”

At Harry’s frown, Seamus pulled him aside, letting Draco go on ahead to help his grandmother prepare tea. He had little doubt the pure-blood aristocrat knew exactly how to interact with a Seer who had claimed sanctuary in a hermitage, especially since there had been several Seers in both the Malfoy and Black lines centuries ago.

“My grandmother is a Seer,” Seamus explained quietly, his hand still on Harry’s shoulder. “Her trigger is tactile. Almost any touch brings visions. Unlike Luna, Cati sees both the past and the present.” Seamus paused, letting Harry absorb the information. “You can see why I wouldn’t want her to touch you, yeah?”

Harry nodded, understanding completely. He was haunted enough by his past; he didn’t want the burden of knowing it had caused someone else pain as well. He frowned when the full extent of Seamus’ words hit. 

“You knew about Luna?”

Seamus hesitated before nodding slowly. He’d held back when talking to Susan last night, giving her only the barest of facts about his family. Even that had been enough to scare her off, something his grandmother had confirmed when she’d spoken to him earlier. She’d seen him in a cottage on a glen, his arms wrapped around a heavily pregnant woman who was not Susan. As usual, she’d declined to give him any more than the barest details, just enough to set his mind at some semblance of ease about his confrontation with Sue the night before.

“Aye,” Seamus said, nearly leaving it at that. Had Harry been anyone else he would have, but he knew how much the dark-haired wizard meant to Luna. “You, Draco and Hermione, you all suspect things about Luna,” he said carefully, finally letting his hand drop from Harry’s arm. “Those things are true. What you don’t know is that my family has been tasked for nearly a thousand years with protecting Seers like Luna.”

Harry gaped at him, waiting for Seamus to continue. He could hear the clatter of cutlery in the other room, some part of him noting that it was odd that Draco wasn’t at least trying to engage Seamus’ grandmother in conversation.

“The only reason she was able to attend Hogwarts was because I went as well,” Seamus said, smiling sadly. “The rest is for Luna to tell, I’m afraid. I won’t betray her confidences, even for you, Harry.”

Harry digested his words, nodding slowly. He was hurt that Luna hadn’t shared any of this with him, but he understood the need to keep some things secret. He was just glad Seamus had been there for her when no one else apparently could be.

“A few rules,” Seamus said, his tone businesslike as they made their way toward the silent kitchen. “This is Cati’s hermitage, which means it is a place of silence and introspection. Don’t speak unless Cati speaks to you. Obviously, avoid touching her if you can.”

Seamus stopped him just outside the archway to the kitchen, bending so he could whisper in Harry’s ear. 

“Strong emotions are also hard on a Seer. Occlude if you can,” he said, patting Harry on the back and propelling him into the room.

Draco was already seated at the rough-hewn table slicing a loaf of freshly baked bread. The table was otherwise empty save a pot of butter and a small stack of plates. Cati was at the range, her back to them as she prepared tea.

Harry gave Draco a tight nod before sinking into an empty chair beside him and waiting for his next instruction. He felt incredibly out of place and was worried he’d make a false step that would either hurt or offend Seamus’ grandmother. His chest ached at the thought that this might be the way Luna was forced to live. 

“It is no hardship, young one,” Cati’s musical voice rang out, startling Harry as it broke the oppressive silence. She turned, motioning to Seamus to grab the tray with tea and an unmatched assortment of mugs.

Harry’s cheeks burned with embarrassment that his Occlumency shields had failed, but the woman just laughed.

“Your shields are strong, but one who feels such emotion as you will always be easy to read for one such as me,” she said, smoothing her robes around herself as she sat. She waited until Seamus had poured everyone tea before speaking again.

“Your pure heart and concern for your friend are the only reason you are here,” she said gently, offering him a small but radiant smile. “Do not apologize for the ability to love so strongly. It is indeed a great power.”

Harry’s lips curved slightly as the words of the prophecy rang through his head – apparently the “power the Dark Lord knows not” was still serving him well.

“Eat,” Cati said sternly, motioning to the bread Draco had cut. “Seamus will take you to see your friend after the fog clears.”


	15. Chapter 15

“– so you see, it’s not that I ever doubted you, Harry, just that I wasn’t strong enough to be near you during those times. I have no clue how Luna stood it – you just radiated negative energy, and it was too much to bear,” Seamus said, holding a low-lying branch out of the way so Harry and Draco could duck underneath. 

They’d been walking for a good forty minutes, and Seamus had filled the time with explanations about his family and his own past. 

“So you share some of the sensitivities a Seer does, then?” Draco asked, grabbing Harry’s arm when the dark-haired boy stumbled over a hidden tree root, too caught up in his own thoughts to watch his feet.

“Some. Being Fae means I have some precognitive abilities and an unusual sensitivity to the emotions of those around me, but like I said, nothing like a Seer. Luna can explain more, but to her the world is flashes of color and emotion constantly swirling around. For me it’s murkier than that. A person has to be feeling a very strong emotion before I pick up on it.”

Seamus paused, turning to look at Harry. The three boys came to a halt on the narrow path, and Harry didn’t need Seamus’ Fae abilities to feel the waves of regret coming off the Irishman.

“It’s alright, Shay,” he said softly, laying a hand on Seamus’ arm. “I wish I’d understood at the time, but I do now, and that’s all that matters. I’ve put all that hurt and anger behind me. Honestly, I have.”

Seamus gave him a wry smile before nodding and plodding on, the other two following close behind him. Most of the fog had lifted, but they were deep in the forest and occasionally came across patches of dense fog and mist in lower lying areas. Their shoes were already wet-through from the soggy bracken that covered the sparse trail, and the mist and dripping trees had made their sweaters damp as well. They’d been too preoccupied with Seamus’ story to bother with casting Water Repelling Charms, and now that they were out in the elements it was too late.

Draco shivered in the chill, prompting Harry to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him close. 

“How much farther?” he asked Seamus, stumbling yet again on uneven ground.

“About twenty minutes or so,” Seamus answered, smiling apologetically when Draco grimaced. “The entire forest is blanketed with Anti-Apparition Charms and other magical dampeners,” he explained. “It helps keep them safe.”

“Them?” Harry asked, his brow furrowing. 

“You’ll see,” Seamus answered cryptically, making Draco wonder if the Caomhnóir wizard was bound by some sort of protective magic from revealing too much about the Seers in his family’s care. He’d been very tight-lipped about anything that wasn’t specific to him. Even the family history he’d given them had been lacking in details such as names, ages and locations. The Caomhnóir were apparently a very secretive bunch.

“Is magic prohibited there as well?” Harry asked, worried that they’d be stuck with their damp clothing if they weren’t allowed to use Drying Charms.

“No, just Apparition and a few other types of spells,” Seamus said easily, ducking underneath a dripping branch. “No Legilimency, for instance. That’s considered extremely rude in the community we’ll be visiting.”

Harry mulled over this this new piece of information. Luna was living in a community – at least that meant she wasn’t holed away by herself like Cati. The old witch seemed happy with her life, but Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for the way her Seer abilities forced her to live.

“I assume you can Occlude, Draco?” Seamus asked over his shoulder, nodding when Draco made a noise of assent. “I figured as much. You seemed to do fine with Cati, and she really has no tolerance for those who can’t Occlude. The same will go for most of the people you’ll meet today, so please keep your barriers up as much as you can, both of you.”

Harry nodded again, even though Seamus’ back was to them. He had a feeling that like his grandmother, Seamus would be able to sense his emotions and know that he’d do anything necessary to protect Luna, even if it meant leaving because she couldn’t handle his presence. It worried him that Cati had been able to see through him while he’d been fully shielding, but Seamus had assured him that she hadn’t actually broken through his blocks.

They walked on in companionable silence for another ten minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts as they made their way through the rugged landscape. Harry’s heart stuttered in anticipation when he saw the first columns of smoke wafting into the air ahead, a sure sign that they were coming upon a village of some sort.

“This is it,” Seamus said a minute later, confirming his suspicions. Soon after they reached a clearing in the trees, and dozens of small cabins, both stone and wood, became visible, spread out over the misty plain before them. The sandy-haired wizard offered them a genuine smile before wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders, pulling them forward. “Best to do this with someone connected by blood, the first time at least.”

Before Draco could fully process that statement, Seamus was easing them through an invisible barrier. He could feel the magic crackle over his skin, but it felt soothing rather than electrifying like most wards did.

“What was that?” Harry asked as soon as they’d made it to the other side, startled by the sensation.

“Wards,” Draco answered when it became evident that Seamus wasn’t going to offer an explanation. “Intent wards, I think. I’ve never crossed one before, but I’ve read about them.”

Seamus grinned, apparently able to speak about it since Draco had guessed correctly.

“Exactly that,” the Irishman said, winking at the two boys. “Keeps out anyone who would seek to do harm to those who seek refuge here. Let’s go find Luna, shall we?”   
  


***

“It went horribly,” Hermione moaned, letting her head hit the study carrel desk with a thunk. She half-expected someone to materialize and scold her, but apparently the librarians in the wizarding section of the Cambridge library were less strict than Madam Pince.

“Not possible,” Theo answered, rubbing soothing circles on her back. His own interview had gone fairly well, and he couldn’t imagine that Hermione’s hadn’t been even better. She had the grades and the poise necessary to win the scholarships, of that he was certain.

“‘S true,” she murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow of her arms.

“Even if it was, it hardly matters. You’ve already been accepted – this was just for scholarships. The worst that could happen would be you aren’t awarded any and we have to work during the school year to pay tuition.”

This didn’t seem to mollify the witch, given the groan his words elicited. Theo kept working on her shoulders, feeling the muscles begin to loosen beneath his hands. They had the whole evening ahead of them, including a lovely room at a wizarding inn just outside the University limits. He didn’t want to waste this rare alone time.

“The only thing you lack is self-confidence,” he whispered, bending so he could speak into her ear. “Remember the little speech you gave me last year?”

He could tell she did by the way her loosening shoulders tensed. He grinned as she shivered at the memory.

“Do you need me to do that, love? I would,” he continued, his voice soft and velvety. “I could duck down under this desk in a flash. The library’s mostly empty. I doubt anyone would notice.”

She shivered again but still didn’t raise her head, so Theo decided to up the stakes. 

“Would you like that? What would I find if I slipped my hand underneath those prim robes?” he asked, nipping her earlobe. “Are you wearing those lacey knickers I like so much? Silk maybe? Or perhaps you were feeling naughty this morning and you’re wearing nothing at all?”

When his teasing didn’t elicit a response, he let one of his hands ghost down her side to skim across her hip bone.

“Would you be able to stay so quiet with my –”

“Theo!” she hissed, her face flushed when she finally raised her head. He could see that her pupils were dilated, making her normally chocolate brown eyes nearly black.

“What, defiling libraries is only for Hogwarts?” he asked with an air of mock innocence.

“Don’t get us kicked out before we even start,” she answered, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “Let’s go back to the inn. You can finish your story.”

***

Heedless of all the warnings he’d been given, Harry couldn’t stop himself from pulling Luna into a fierce hug the moment she opened the door to the small thatch cottage. Rather than shy away, though, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him even closer, burying her face in his damp jumper.

“I knew you’d come,” she said, her voice muffled by the wet wool.

“Of course you did,” Seamus said with a laugh, sharing a smirk with Draco. “You’re a Seer, you daft bint.”

Luna giggled, giving Harry one last squeeze before letting him go. Her expression quickly turned serious as she studied the dark-haired boy in front of her.

“I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly,” she said as though expecting a reprimand. “I know what that does to you, Harry, and I apologize. I promise I wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been necessary.”

She led them over to a small pipe stove in the center of the tiny cottage, urging them to peel off their dampened outer clothes and take a seat on the cushions she’d spread around it. A serviceable but old tea set sat on the stone floor, four cups already laid out.

“You really  _ did _ know that we were coming,” Harry said quietly, surveying the small room in shock. A rack hung by the fire for their jumpers, and she had a stack of blankets waiting next to the pillows for them to warm up in.

“Occupational hazard,” Seamus joked, wrapping an arm around Luna’s thin shoulders and pressing a kiss against the side of her head. She leaned into him, accepting a form of comfort that Harry and Draco couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“There are scads of different types of Seers,” Seamus said when they’d all arranged themselves on the cushions. “Each Seer’s gift is attuned to them and only them, so you could say that no two Seers are alike.”

Harry watched Luna warily as she poured them tea, a smile curving his lips when she dropped just the right amount of sugar and milk into Seamus’ before setting it before him. She repeated the process with each of their cups, never hesitating. He wondered if that was because she knew them all so well or because of her gift.

“My gift has no trigger, which makes it harder to control,” Luna said as she folded her legs underneath her, taking a sip of her tea. Harry sniffed at his, not recognizing the herbal scents that wafted up from it.

“Sage,” Seamus said before Harry could ask. He grinned when Draco looked at him quizzically. “I’m not a Seer, just a sensitive. The tea is brewed with sage to help with mental clarity. I learned how to mix it for her when we started Hogwarts.”

Luna smiled, and Harry noticed her features were much more relaxed than they normally were. Her light blue eyes were focused, and her attention was very much on the present. He didn’t see her like that often.

“The wards and precautions we take here help,” Seamus said, winking at Harry. “This is the  _ real _ Luna, the Luna who isn’t constantly besieged by visions.”

Draco sat his tea cup down on the stone floor with a clatter, drawing everyone’ s attention. 

“I think you’d better start from the beginning,” he said, frowning as he watched what looked like a sort of telepathic communication between Seamus and Luna. “The  _ very _ beginning, for both of you.”

***

Blaise hid a grin behind his hand when Pansy lunged across the table to Banish the water Neville had just spilled before the Gryffindor could do it himself. Neville’s control of his new powers – or rather his  _ old _ powers, accessed in new way – was still rather shaky, and he could just as easily have Banished the table as the water.

“I’m not a child,” Neville snapped, drawing attention from neighboring tables in the chic Hogsmeade eatery that had opened earlier that year.

Seeing that Pansy was well past her usual breaking point, Blaise covered her hand with his, stopping her from raising her wand again, this time probably to hex the hell out of her fiancé. With his other hand he motioned to the waiter, asking for their bill. They were far from finished with their meal, but he knew Pansy well enough to know she’d be seething for hours; it was better if they took their untouched meals back to Hogwarts where Pansy and Neville could snark at each other in privacy, with Blaise and Hannah as referees, of course. 

“Up for some dinner theater, love?” he whispered in Hannah’s ear as they left the restaurant and headed back toward the castle.

***

Harry found Luna perched on a low-hanging branch that stuck out over a small pond. She’d left the telling of their story to Seamus, opting to go out and practice her meditation exercises instead. Harry suspected she hadn’t fully come to terms with her abilities, and that hearing it all rehashed might be painful for her.

“So, you and Seamus,” Harry said casually, leaning against the trunk of the tree. 

Luna smiled, the slight dreamy quality back in her expression. Apparently even the sanctuary of the wards couldn’t protect her from all of her visions, Harry noted with sadness.

“Not in that way,” she chided gently, her denim-covered legs sliding against the rough bark as she turned to face him. “Seamus and I were practically raised together. He’s been looking out for me since we were children.”

Harry grinned at the fond smile on her face. He wondered if that really  _ was _ the extent of their relationship. Seamus had said the same thing, but his voice took on a different tone when he spoke of her, just as hers did when she talked about her Irish guardian. 

“So none of your visions –”

“Seers can’t See themselves,” she said, blinking away haziness. “Good choice, by the way.”

Harry frowned, puzzled at her words.

“The shawl you and Draco are going to buy for Mrs. Malfoy’s birthday from Joy. She’s another Seer here in the sanctuary. She makes the most beautiful things out of Irish lace.”

Her prediction startled a laugh out of him. He and Draco  _ were _ in the market for a suitable birthday gift for Narcissa, and what Luna was describing sounded perfect. 

“Did you really See that, or are you just that good at reading people?”

Luna shrugged lightly, her blonde hair rippling around her face. She looked serene again, and Harry felt a pang of regret that she couldn’t find relaxation like this in the real world. From what Seamus had told them, it sounded like she was doomed either to a life of relative solitude or an early death from insanity, like her mother.

“Hermione will get her scholarship, but Theo won’t. Draco will offer to pay his tuition, but being stubborn, Theo won’t let him. He’ll get lucky, though. The University will offer him a position in the Potions Lab. Hermione will always complain that he smells of pickled things, but at least the job will cover his school expenses.”

Harry gaped at her, unsure of how to respond. He’d only been kidding, of course. He didn’t doubt her talent, not after the eerie way she’d known things all throughout school or the things Seamus had told her.

“It’s alright, Harry,” she said gently, bracing her hands against the limb and swinging her feet down to the ground. She landed gracefully with a light thump. “I know you worry about me, but you mustn’t. My path has already been chosen. Fighting it only makes it more difficult. It’s possible to live a long, happy life, even with the challenges I face. My mother chose to defy her Caomhnóir guardian’s advice and marry my father instead of finding retreat in a place like this. She chose her fate. From the letters she left for me, she assured me her choice had been the right one.”

She smiled sadly at him, letting him wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders. 

“Seamus and I had an agreement – it was the only way I was allowed to attend Hogwarts. I was to take breaks whenever I felt things were too much. The only other options were attending school here, at the sanctuary, or taking a Suppression Potion that isn’t very effective at the best of times and causes complete insanity more often than not.”

She rested her head against Harry’s shoulder, leaning into him as they walked through the thick forest that surrounded the Caomhnóir sanctuary. Harry had to admit that it was a very restful, relaxing place, though he hated that Luna might be confined to its boundaries for the rest of her life.

“His family had attended Beauxbatons for as long as anyone could remember. He probably didn’t tell you that, did he? He wouldn’t. Seamus doesn’t want me to feel guilty because he had to put aside his own plans to help me achieve mine.”

Harry made a sound of protest, knowing that Seamus didn’t feel that attending Hogwarts had been a sacrifice. At least, he didn’t  _ think  _ he did. His former roommate hadn’t mentioned it at all in his explanation of his Caomhnóir responsibilities and Luna’s abilities.

“His sister Aislin went there,” she said, smirking at Harry’s surprised exclamation that Seamus had a sister. He’d never heard of her. “She’ll take over Cati’s role as the leader of the Caomhnóir when the time comes. Seamus’ mum doesn’t have any Fae abilities. It seems to have skipped a generation. It could have been Seamus, since he’s the oldest, but he forfeited the right when he went to Hogwarts with me instead.”

“What will he do now?” Harry asked, feeling guilty that he’d never given any thought to what his friend would do after school.

“Teach. He has a position here at the school in the sanctuary working with children who aren’t able to attend one of the magical schools.”

Harry digested the news, trying to picture fun-loving and boisterous Seamus as a teacher. It was hard to reconcile the images.

“And you?” 

Luna was quiet for several minutes, and Harry didn’t push as they walked along in silence. 

“Stay here, for now.”

The words, and the flat tone she’d delivered them in, drew Harry up short. He stopped, pulling her to a halt with him.

“You aren’t coming back to finish the classes?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice even.

“No,” she said simply, pulling away from him so she could stand on her own. 

Harry nodded, following her as she resumed their walk. They were nearly back to her small cottage now, and Harry sensed he was running out of time to ask his questions.

“Luna,” he said carefully, gathering his courage. This had been something Seamus hadn’t been able to set straight for him, telling him to ask her directly. “Snorkacks and Nargles and Blibbering Humdingers, all those mythical creatures –”

“Don’t exist,” she said, her cheeks coloring slightly. It was a nice contrast to the pallor she’d taken on when thinking about her future. A small smile curved her lips at his look of incredulity, and Harry was pleased to see the sparkle return to her blue eyes. “My coping mechanism. It’s how I managed to stay at Hogwarts as long as I did. I created my own little world that I could retreat into when I needed to – believe it or not, it kept me sane.”

Harry squinted at her, considering her words. He’d certainly thought most of the things Luna apparently believed in had been false, but hearing that  _ she _ thought that as well was a bit jarring.

“But Sweden!” he said, his face breaking into an involuntary smile when she started laughing.

“I needed to get away, but Seamus was so involved with Susan and I didn’t want to get in the way of that. I knew if I came here, which is what I did most summers and holidays, by the way, he’d know I was having trouble and would insist on coming as well. So I went Snorkack hunting in Sweden with you and Draco instead.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head as he remembered the first few tortured days of the supposed Snorkack hunt, blushing when he recalled Luna’s comments about sex.

“Oh, come off it,” she teased with a giggle. “It was obvious that you two needed a prod in that direction, so I used the Snorkacks to help. Besides, listening to you two go at it was a nice bit of stress relief for me.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Are you sure you’re up for this?”

Luna gave Seamus a sharp look, ignoring the way Cati’s eyes twinkled as she looked at them. She’d missed so much already – Harry’s birthday and Hermione’s scholarship celebration, just to name a few. The set of her jaw should have clued Seamus into her resolve, but he kept prodding, talking to her as if she was an invalid.

“Och,  _ bí curamach _ , Seamus,” Cati warned him, the thin skin around her eyes crinkling into a smile even as she uttered the words of caution.

Seamus sighed, grabbing the housewarming gift he and Luna had spent the week pulling together. She’d protested vehemently when he announced he’d be staying at the sanctuary as well instead of returning to Hogwarts, but Luna hadn’t been able to dissuade him – especially after he found out the truth of her trip to Sweden. 

Cati surveyed the items in the hand-woven basket, which had been a gift from Seamus’ mum, Fiona. The entire community had worked together making things to send along with Luna and Seamus to Harry and Draco’s housewarming party, since the two young men had become frequent – and popular – visitors to the sanctuary since Luna’s arrival. She remembered gathering together many such presents as a child, and she was happy that Seamus wanted to share that heritage with his friends. He was proud of his roots, both Irish and Caomhnóir, and he’d spent the last two months studying the traditions with his sister and grandmother.

“You’ve the potion?” he asked, his tone clipped. Cati didn’t like hearing him speak to Luna that way, but she held her tongue. That was a battle for another day – and she had no doubt that with her bull-headed grandson involved, it  _ would _ be a battle.”

Luna glared at him, her pale hand delving into her robes to retrieve a small potion bottle. She waved the deep green vial at him, rolling her eyes as she shoved it back into her pocket. It was quite ingenious, really, and both Cati and Luna were extremely proud of Seamus’ discovery. He’d commandeered Draco’s help after he moved back to the sanctuary to set up a potions lab, where he disappeared daily – often with a visiting Draco, Theo or Blaise in tow – to experiment with herbal remedies and potions that could help ease the effects the visions had on the Seers under his protection. Since the gift was so personalized to each Seer, though, it was slow-going; the process was different for every witch he tried to help. 

He’d started with Luna, and the result was the sage-infused Calming Draught she had squirreled away in her light blue robes. It would help dull the edges if being around a crowd of people unshielded made her anxious. Harry and Draco had done their part, too, hauling all of Luna’s friends in for Occlumency training to help them shore up their barriers before visiting her. Because of the three boys’ efforts, she hadn’t had to sacrifice much of her life for her sanity – her friends regularly visited the sanctuary, and today she was venturing out into the outside world with the help of the potion.

“ _ Tá áthas uirthi _ ,” Cati whispered in Seamus’ ear, noting the flash of shame that crossed his features with approval. Lately his instincts to protect Luna had gone into overdrive, often causing him to override her wishes in order to keep her safe – the very thing that had driven Luna’s mother away from the protection of the Caomhnóir. Cati didn’t want to see the same mistakes repeated with Luna.

“I know you can handle it, Luna,” Seamus said, contrite. He offered her a small smile, feeling something twinge inside him when she returned it with a sunny grin he hadn’t seen directed at him in weeks. “It’s  _ me _ I’m worried about. It’s your first trip out, and I’m more protective than a nesting Horntail.”

The tension melted out of Luna’s shoulders at his words. She’d worried he was upset with her choice to seek refuge at the sanctuary, since it had drastically affected his life as well. She hadn’t heard a thing about Susan for the better part of two months, and she’d noticed none of their friends talked about her when they visited. Everyone studiously avoided the subject, in fact. Including Seamus. Luna had assumed the two had broken up because of his Caomhnóir duties, and it weighed heavily on her conscience. She didn’t want to be the reason they weren’t together – she wanted Seamus to be happy. 

She held out her arm, her smile growing when Seamus took it and pulled her close to him so they could Portkey to Somerset. Seamus hadn’t wanted Luna to spend any more time unshielded than necessary, so Mr. Weasley had arranged a Ministry-approved Portkey for them that could be keyed to different destinations. It would always return them to Luna’s sunny little cottage, which meant she could use it for quick escapes if the potion failed and she felt bombarded in public.

Cati hurried toward them, the huge basket in her outstretched hands. Seamus smiled apologetically, knowing he was too wrapped up in Luna’s welfare at the moment to be trusted to think of much else. Thank Merlin for his family – they’d helped him stay grounded and focused.

“ _ Tá grá agam duit _ ,” Cati whispered in his ear, turning her head so he could press a kiss against the papery thin skin of her cheek.

“I love you, too,” he answered, missing the way Luna’s gaze softened as she watched the two of them, a sense of calmness stealing over her at the exchange between grandmother and grandson. Moments later the world swirled away as Seamus activated the Portkey, the cozy interior of her cottage replaced with a large sitting room furnished with dark woods and green fabric.

***

“– if not for your advice, I’m not sure Hogwarts would still be standing,” Draco joked, gesticulating wildly to pantomime a large explosion. The wineglass in his hand tipped precariously, righted with a quick spell from Neville.

“You’re lucky I didn’t just let that spill, git,” the dark-haired man teased, earning himself a swat from Harry, who was sitting next to him on the sofa.

“Really, though, your advice to get a new wand worked wonders,” Neville said to Luna, toasting her with his own half-full glass of wine. “Mr. Ollivander said it was a wonder my father’s old wand worked for me at all, especially after I started using it with the correct hand.”

“Forget saving Hogwarts, I think you saved our marriage,” Pansy said with a smirk, smoothing her robes with her left hand, admiring the way her wedding and engagement rings twinkled on her finger. 

“I just relayed what I saw,” Luna said, waving away their gratitude. “I’d never have Seen you getting a new wand if you hadn’t decided to have your magic tested. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to help sooner.”

Seamus scoffed, pulling her down from the arm of the chair they were sitting in and onto his lap. They’d been at the party for hours, and everyone except for Luna, who didn’t want to risk the effects alcohol might have on the potion, was pleasantly drunk. Even Seamus, who had originally insisted he’d stick with Butterbeer as well to keep a better eye out. That had lasted until his third drink, which Luna had spiked liberally with Firewhisky.

“That’s not how it works and you know it,” he said, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. Draco had mixed it especially for her, blending in vanilla and sandalwood for relaxation. It smelled heavenly. 

Luna looked up at him, her gaze steady as she studied the sandy-haired man who held her cradled in his lap. For the first time she found herself wishing she  _ could _ see her own future – did it include Seamus as more than her guardian? Did she want it to? Her head spun with possibilities, everything whirling into a blur as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. She could taste the sweet tang of the Firewhisky, which made her lips tingle even though it was diluted by Seamus’ saliva. She sat back, breaking the contact as soon as that thought registered. Seamus was drunk – because  _ she _ switched his drinks – and not in his right mind. He’d never have kissed her otherwise.

Blushing furiously, Luna levered herself out of Seamus’ lap and settled on the floor next to Hermione, who was watching them with obvious curiosity.

“So, presents? You can’t tell me you aren’t eager for them, Draco,” Luna said brightly, shifting the focus away from her heated cheeks.

***

“You’re all welcome any time,” Luna said, accepting hugs from the inebriated group as she and Seamus made to leave an hour later. It was well past the time Seamus had originally set out for them to return to Ireland, and Luna was beginning to feel the restless twinges that usually preceded falling into her visions. She was exhausted, not to mention embarrassed about the kiss she and Seamus had shared, and just wanted the solitude of her cottage.

Hannah stepped back, holding both of Luna’s hands in hers. 

“I don’t want to pressure you, but we’d love to have you at our bonding ceremony next month,” she said, her cheeks tinged pink from the wine she’d been drinking all night. 

Luna squeezed her hands, offering her a reassuring smile.

“I’ll do my best,” she said, grateful when Hannah took the cue and simply nodded. “I was so sorry to miss Neville and Pansy’s ceremony.”

Neville wrapped her in a clumsy hug, making Luna laugh. Everyone was  _ definitely _ drunk.

“We udder -unner –  _ understood _ ,” he said, grimacing at his uncooperative tongue. 

“We did,” Pansy said quickly, sensing Neville’s frustration. She was much more sober than her husband, but still tipsy. “And thank you for your gift. It –” she faltered, swallowing as tears threatened. “It meant a lot.”

Luna nodded, kissing Pansy’s cheek before turning away to give her a moment to compose herself. Though she hadn’t felt confident enough to attend the large ceremony, she  _ had _ sent a gift – a baby blanket she’d crocheted herself, under Joy’s tutelage, and a letter explaining that she’d had a vision that Pansy and Neville would welcome a baby daughter in just a few years. It had been welcome news to Pansy, whom Luna knew had worried her exposure to the Cruciatus Curse during the war had rendered her unable to have kids.

“I know you won’t be able to make ours,” Harry said ruefully, giving Luna another tight hug. The ceremony Narcissa was planning for them was much too large for Luna to even think of attending – no potion would be able to shield her from that many people.

“About that,” Draco said quietly, wrapping his arms around the two of them and shuffling them off to the kitchen. Seamus was drunk enough he didn’t think to follow, which surprised Luna. She’d rarely been without him in the presence of others since her arrival at the sanctuary. He supervised almost all of their friends’ visits. Until now she’d been annoyed with him about it, but she found herself strangely unsettled knowing he  _ wasn’t _ there now, even though he was only a few rooms away.

“I’ve asked Cati for permission to hold a small bonding ceremony at the sanctuary,” Draco said, surprising both Luna and Harry. “We want you to be there, Luna, but we know you can’t come to the monstrosity of a ceremony Mother is planning. I thought we could have a small, family-only ceremony in the forest near your cottage first.”

Luna blinked back tears, touched that Draco cared enough about her to go to such lengths.

“You  _ are _ family,” Harry said, his voice rough with emotion. His green eyes sparkled with unshed tears as he looked at Draco. “Thank you.”

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead and another to Luna’s.

“It’s set for the day before our public ceremony. Cati and Seamus are helping me take care of all the details. You two just have to show up. I couldn’t let Harry be bonded without having you there to stand up for him.”

***

Seamus groaned, wondering if this was how Harry felt all the times he’d ended up in the Hospital Wing after a rough Quidditch game or practice – it surely  _ seemed _ like he had taken a Bludger to the head. But how could that have happened? Hadn’t he been at Harry and Draco’s last night?

The sandy-haired man shot up in alarm, ignoring the searing pain in his temples as he forced himself to his feet. He  _ had _ been at Harry and Draco’s last night, but he couldn’t remember getting home. Worse yet, he couldn’t remember if Luna had been with him when he came back. 

“Fuck,” he spat, rubbing his hands over his aching eyes briskly to try to force them to focus. His tongue felt like it had been replaced with foul-tasting sandpaper. He blinked a few times, willing the haze to clear so he could figure out what the hell was going on. It wasn’t until he recognized the bright curtains that he realized he had been sleeping on the sofa in Luna’s cottage.

He didn’t question it when a potion bottle was shoved into his hand, uncorking it and downing it in one swallow without even looking at what it was. The awful taste coated his dry tongue, making him gag. Seconds later the room no longer seemed so untenably bright, and the pounding in his head had reduced to a manageable level.

“Have a vision I’d need that?” he asked, correctly assuming who his mystery benefactor had been.

“No, but I didn’t need one to know you’d be in a bad way this morning,” Luna answered, her voice over-bright. “That was from Cati, by the way. She said she’ll be by later to have a word with you.”

Seamus groaned, dragging his hand over his face again. The last thing he needed right now was a visit from his grandmother, who would surely be in full Caomhnóir lecture mode about letting his guard down around his charge.

“Do you remember anything about last night?” Luna asked, careful to keep her tone curious and not let the desperate worry she’d been feeling all morning creep into it.

“No?” he said, sounding unsure of his answer. He winced when Luna began to take plates down from the cupboard, noticing the heavy scent of bacon and eggs for the first time.

“I don’t think –”

“You must have had half of the fifth of Firewhisky Neville brought,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “You need something in your stomach other than alcohol and Hangover Potion.”

Seamus sat heavily in the white-washed chair near the table, bravely reaching for a piece of buttered toast. 

“My fault, actually,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I spiked your drink. I wanted you to have fun, but not  _ this _ much fun.”

Seamus managed to glare weakly at her as he chewed his toast. He looked too pathetic for her to actually be wounded by it.

“You’re alright, though?” he asked after swallowing, his bleary eyes narrowing as he studied her across the table.

“Perfect,” she said with another nervous laugh. It seemed he really  _ didn’t _ remember anything about the night before, which included the sloppy kiss she’d been up all night thinking about. Luna didn’t know if that was for the best or not.  _ She _ certainly wasn’t going to tell him about it.

“Mmm,” he grunted, picking up another piece of toast and eyeing her with suspicion. He knew she was hiding something, but he figured he’d find out sooner or later. Cati was eerily good at foreseeing his moments of disgrace and gleefully berating him for them after the fact – he had a feeling this was going to fit into that category.


	17. Chapter 17

**Six months later …**

“So, this is it,” Hermione said, biting her lip as she backed up enough to let her parents over the threshold.

Her mother’s gaze roved around the small space, taking in the boxes of unpacked books that hadn’t fit on the few shelves that had come with the furnished flat. Hermione had actually appropriated all of the pantry space as well, shoving both her and Theo’s lesser-used course books into the space instead of food. Neither of them had the time to cook, anyway. They had given up all pretense of trying to make real meals in the middle of the first term. Now, buried in work partway into their second semester, they were existing on care packages from their friends’ house-elves and peanut butter sandwiches.

She heard her father’s hum of disapproval as he poked his head into the tiny bathroom, obviously noticing Theo’s kit alongside her own on the narrow shelf above the sink. She’d been careful to clear away most evidence of their cohabitation – his clothes were all safely stowed in the dresser or the closet, instead of across the floor like they usually were, and his Quidditch gear had been stuffed into the refrigerator with the leftovers from the meal Blaise’s elf Selby had sent over the night before.

“You  _ know _ Theo lives here with me,” she said defensively, tensing herself for a fight. She’d been honest with her parents about the fact that she and Theo would be living together at University, and even though she’d taken measures not to throw it in their faces by tidying Theo’s things away, she wasn’t going to lie about it.

“What I  _ don’t _ know is when he plans to make an honest woman of you,” her father said smartly, his gaze flickering to her finger to make sure she was still wearing Theo’s engagement ring.

Before Hermione could respond, though, her mother jumped to her defense.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Hal,” her mother snapped, rolling her eyes. “We’re lucky they got engaged first before moving in together. Remember Hazel Forthington’s daughter Annie? She and  _ her _ boyfriend are living together with no plans to marry at all. He’s not even in University! He fancies himself a  _ musician. _ Hazel’s stuck paying the rent, even! _ ” _

Hermione couldn’t help but smirk at the disdain in her mother’s tone. It had taken awhile, but she’d finally forgiven them for the disaster that had followed their first dinner with Theo. Her father was still a bit stiff with both of them, but she could tell he was warming to Theo.

“Theo’s mother says the same thing,” Hermione told her father, the edge of her temper cooled enough she could see the humor in the situation. “We  _ have _ set a date, actually. Next summer.”

She faltered when her mother’s eyes lit up, realizing they thought she meant in a matter of months.

“The summer after this one, rather. Not  _ this _ summer. A year and a half from now.”

Her father’s lips didn’t move from their grim line, but he did nod. If their parents had their way she and Theo would already have been married before starting University, but Hermione wasn’t willing to rush things, even if it meant garnering their parents’ disapproval. It wasn’t that she wasn’t sure of Theo, she was, it was just that she wanted time to settle into her new role as a University student before adding the role of wife.

“Lovely,” her mother said breezily, resuming her inspection of the flat. The smile that had been threatening turned into a full-fledged laugh when Hermione heard her shriek when she opened the refrigerator door, letting the Quaffle she’d forced in there earlier out. As her parents ducked and yelled as it flew around the confined space, Hermione sighed a breath of relief. Everything was going to be fine.

***

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Neville beamed, ignoring the look of total contempt on his wife’s face as he studied the ramshackle building in front of him. “We’ll take it.”

Pansy bit back a retort, knowing it would do no good to argue with Neville once he’d made up his mind. Besides, this was  _ his _ dream, not hers. If he wanted to start his herbology business in a dilapidated old warehouse, who was she to stop him?

“Are you sure, sir?” the estate agent asked, looking skeptically at the young couple. 

They’d come into her office a week earlier, asking to see large buildings for sale on a good bit of land in relatively remote locations. She’d initially taken them for pranksters, but the significant amount of money the young man was willing to pay – and the quick call to check his background with Draco Malfoy, who’d vouched for him – helped her set her fears aside.

“Positive,” Pansy answered, smiling indulgently when Neville squeezed her hand. She knew he could do it without her on board, but he  _ wanted _ her support, and she wanted to give it to him, despite her reservations.

Malinda wandered back to her car to fish out the necessary paperwork, leaving Pansy and Neville alone to discuss their plans. She wondered where the young, wealthy clients she’d been dealing with lately had come from. She’d never heard of any of their surnames – Malfoy, Zabini, Longbottom – but they all seemed to have considerable resources and very odd prerequisites, usually involving large amounts of land and hard-to-access locales. Still, the commissions she’d gotten from the Malfoy and Zabini transactions had been quite large, and she had a feeling this one would be as well. Most normal clients needed to deal with bank financing for purchases so large – even for purchases much smaller than this one, she admitted – but this had all the makings of another cash sale. That meant the owner wouldn’t haggle over-much and she’d have her commission in her pocket within the week. 

“You  _ are _ sure, Nev?” Pansy asked quietly, cocking her head to try to see the same potential Neville did in the poorly maintained building in front of them.

“Positive,” he answered, grinning when she smacked him for mimicking her. “Truly. I came out with Blaise last night and cast a few Charms to verify that the structure was sound, and it is. The soil is unbelievably fertile – it hasn’t been farmed in decades or longer.”

He strolled along behind the building, side stepping panes of glass that had fallen from a second-story window above them some time ago, giving birds and other creatures easy access to the empty interior of the barn-like structure. None of that mattered, though, since Neville planned to strip the building to its studs and start over, refurbishing it in thick, magically strengthened glass so it could serve as his greenhouse. The fields around the building would be planted with all manner of rare magical plants by next spring, as soon as the complicated wards and climate protection spells he’d worked out with Professor Sprout had been installed. They’d have to add a slew of Muggle Repellant charms as well, but in the end he’d have the nursery he’d always dreamed of.

Pansy watched Neville surveying the barren land, his wistful smile convincing her more than any of his assurances had. If he saw a future here, then so did she. And with the control he’d gained over his powers with his new wand and hours of tireless practice, she was sure he was strong enough to see all of the complicated magic the property would need through to the end – especially with the help of their friends, which they were sure to get.

She slipped her hand into his, her fingers ghosting over the calluses that he perpetually had from his hands-on work with the plants he nurtured. Neville was a good herbologist and a hard worker. If anyone could do this, it was him.

She grinned at him, leaning into him as they waited for the estate agent to come back with the things they needed to sign. He was a good husband, she thought, subtly moving his hand so it rested over her flat stomach. And he’d be a good father, too. Their friends thought them crazy to start a business while she was pregnant, but Pansy knew better. Everyone always underestimated Neville, but she’d learned to stop doing so ages ago. He could handle it, and so could she. 

They watched the estate agent make her way back across the uneven ground, her dainty heels no match for the wet soil. She offered the young couple a bright smile, jotting a few things down on the clipboard she’d brought, instantly launching into a spiel about opening offers and negotiation techniques. When the Neville agreed to offer the full asking price she nearly swooned. Yes, Malinda thought, she definitely wouldn’t mind if Draco Malfoy referred a few more clients her way, no matter how strange they might be.

***

Harry settled back into the fluffy pillows, nearly sighing out loud at how good it felt to relax. He’d known Healer training would be hard, but he’d had no idea how much work would be involved. He spent most of his days shadowing Healers at the University hospital and attending classes and practical labs. His nights were full of studying for the next day’s classes and rounds in the school’s extensive medical library. He rarely stumbled home before 1 a.m., and he was usually out the door by 6:30 a.m. during the week. 

Draco was hardly any better off. The Potions Mastery track was just as demanding, meaning the two of them hardly saw each other during the week at all, between Harry’s research in the library and Draco’s long hours in the potions lab. On the rare nights they were both home before midnight it was all they could do to share a kiss or a half-hearted fondle before dropping off to sleep. All in all, it was  _ not _ how Harry had envisioned marriage.

But today – today was Saturday, which meant a half-day of rounds in the morning for Harry and a few hours of checking in on experiments in the lab for Draco. They were usually both home by 2 p.m., and though they hardly had the energy to do much, at least they were together. Sundays were their free day, generally spent lounging around the house and being lazy, with long lie-ins and early afternoon sex being among their favored activities.

Harry groaned, looking at his watch for the third time in five minutes. It was 2:30 p.m., and Draco wasn’t back yet. Harry had already grabbed a quick shower to wash away the antiseptic smell of the hospital, and now he was fighting exhaustion, trying to stay awake long enough to at least see Draco come home. They were having dinner with Draco’s parents that evening, cutting into their rare alone-time even more.

He must have drifted off at some point, lulled to sleep by the soft mattress and the quiet house, because the room was dark when Draco gently shook him awake.

“Sorry, love,” Draco murmured, folding himself around Harry’s sleep-warmed body. He still smelled of potions, and Harry wrinkled his nose at the noxious odors. “Explosion at the lab. No one was hurt, but there was a hell of a mess to clean up. Four months of research shot, too.”

He pressed a kiss against Harry’s temple, easing himself back off the bed in stiff movements. Harry frowned, noticing the burn marks on the blond’s work robes for the first time.

“No one was hurt?” he questioned, sitting up and turning the bedside lamp on so he could see better. A quick glance at the clock showed they had a little more than an hour before they needed to be at the Manor.

“Not overly much, no,” Draco backtracked, seeming to suddenly remember he was talking to a Healer-in-training.

“Mmm,” Harry said thoughtfully, his mind already in medical mode as he trailed hands over Draco’s robes, unfastening them and shoving them off strong shoulders. The ruined robes pooled on the floor, quickly joined by his burnt shirt and revealing pale skin marred with patches of pink, a sure sign of recently healed flesh.

Draco shivered as Harry’s hands trailed over the sensitive skin, taking care not to apply too much pressure to the still-tender wounds. Confident Draco’s torso had been properly healed, Harry unbuckled his trousers, intent on inspecting every centimeter of Draco’s creamy flesh.

“Harry,” Draco protested, pushing at Harry’s questing hands as they moved toward the waistband of his boxers.

“Potions splash, Draco,” Harry said firmly, pushing the trousers and pants over Draco’s arse and urging the blond to step out of the fabric. He continued his exploration of Draco’s arse and legs until he was satisfied he hadn’t been further injured.

“That was … thorough,” Draco murmured, turning back around to face Harry. His erection nudged against Harry’s cheek, startling a laugh out of the dark-haired man.

“It isn’t that uncommon for men to become aroused during a Healer’s examination,” Harry said, smirking as he looked up at his husband’s face. 

“Do you have personal experience with that, Healer Potter?” Draco growled, his grey eyes darkening with jealousy. 

“It’s  _ Trainee-Healer _ Potter, and no, I don’t. But Healer Andrews assures us it will happen sooner or later,” Harry answered, grinning at the possessive way Draco was looking at him. “We’ve been trained on how to deal with it.”

Draco growled again, his flushed cock falling heavily against Harry’s cheek again when it twitched again. Harry gave into temptation, turning his head so he could wrap his lips around Draco’s erection. Long fingers came up to knead the blond’s balls, eliciting a moan from Draco.

“Found a bit I hadn’t inspected,” Harry said as he released Draco’s cock, which was now bright red and shiny with saliva. Harry’s own erection pulsed in his trousers at the sight, pushing uncomfortably against the restrictive fabric.

“You’d better not use that technique with your patients,  _ Trainee-Healer  _ Potter,” Draco snarled, the way looked at Harry making the other man shudder in anticipation.

“I haven’t found it in the official manual of examination techniques, no,” Harry said, laughing when Draco pulled him to his feet to claim his mouth in a kiss so violent his lips were throbbing by the time he pulled away for air.

“See that you don’t,” Draco murmured, his hands fisting in Harry’s clothes. He tugged at them, quickly undoing fastenings and shoving them out of the way.

“Your parents’ dinner,” Harry reminded him, groaning when Draco managed to wrest him out of his trousers, his cool palm closing around Harry’s cock.

“We’ll be fashionably late,” Draco answered, latching onto Harry’s neck and sucking hard. “I need a shower before we can go anyway. I smell like potions.”

“You reek,” Harry agreed, taking the sting out of the barb by nipping Draco’s earlobe. 

“Shower?” 

Harry nodded, following Draco into their en suite bathroom. He started the taps in the shower, careful not to let the water get to hot, mindful of Draco’s newly healed skin, as the blond fetched the neutralizing soaps he used after potions accidents.

“Sexy,” Harry teased as they stepped under the spray and Draco began to lather the foul-smelling soap over his skin.

“Idiot,” Draco answered, leaning over for a kiss as Harry began to help rub the soap over his body, taking care to make sure all of Draco’s skin was covered before letting the blond rinse off. The soap smelled horribly, but it prevented any further damage from ingredients that might have a delayed reaction. It was of Draco’s own invention, but potions laboratories across the country were beginning to stock it for emergencies.

Harry laughed, kissing Draco again as he reached behind himself to grab the bergamot soap Draco usually used. Now that all remnants of the botched potion had been removed it was safe for him to wash with normal soap, and he groaned as Harry kneaded his fingers across the soap-slicked skin of his back, working out the kinks from the long week. This was part of their normal Saturday afternoon routine – massaging each other in the shower as they washed away the stresses of the week.

They stood together under the water, both of them running their hands over each other’s bodies, their touches teasing at first and then gaining urgency as they became more aroused. Harry mewled as Draco slipped two soaped fingers in his arse, pillowing his head against his arm as he leaned forward against the shower wall to give him freer access.

They were short on time and shorter on patience, so Draco didn’t waste any time grabbing the bottle of lube they kept in the shower for just this purpose and generously coating his fingers, using them to slick Harry’s entrance before pushing them inside again and stroking his channel, readying it for his cock. Harry pushed back against the intrusion, making Draco laugh at his eagerness. He wrapped his lubed hand around his own cock, hissing at the sensation as he coated himself. Harry’s muffled laugh made him growl, and Draco pushed forward, breaching the ring of tight muscle and shoving all the way inside, satisfied at the way Harry’s laugh had turned into a gasp and then a groan.

In motions born of long practice, Draco angled himself so his cock would sweep over Harry’s prostate on nearly every stroke, making the other man whimper as his orgasm built quickly. His hand still slick with lube, Draco reached around, his knuckles brushing against the cold tile wall as he stroked Harry’s cock in time with his strokes. What seemed only moments later they were both coming, Harry first and then Draco closely afterward, driven over the edge by the way Harry’s channel contracted around him.

“Definitely all healed,” Harry panted, grimacing when Draco pulled out. He turned, rinsing the come off his stomach in the now-tepid stream of water. 

“Is that your professional opinion, Trainee-Healer Potter?” Draco asked, hurrying through the rest of his shower now that they were undeniably late for his parents’ dinner. He squinted at Harry through the haze of lather as he washed his hair, laughing at the rude gesture his husband shot him.

***

“Hannah!” Blaise shouted, clenching his teeth and taking a deep breath to calm down. The sight of Hannah in the kitchen – again – with a smoking pot set him on edge. “What are you doing? We have house-elves for this sort of thing. You don’t need to cook.”

Hannah sniffled, looking at the burnt remains of the risotto she’d been trying to make for dinner. Blaise’s mother was coming, and it was her first visit to their new home. The fact that she was bringing her current – and according to her, her last – husband with her whom Hannah had met only once, at their wedding a few weeks earlier only added to her stress. 

“I wanted to make something myself,” she said, looking so dejected that Blaise didn’t have the heart to scold her for scaring the elves again. They’d run to him in a panic when whatever she’d been overseeing on the range top burst into flame, the third time he’d been forced to intervene between her and the house-elves over domestic matters that week. “I wanted to show them I’m a good wife.”

“Hannie,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her close. “You’re a fabulous wife. But you’re a horrible cook. Stay out of the kitchen,  _ cara _ .”

Hannah managed a watery laugh, muffled against his chest. Thoughts of her most recent culinary failure fled when Blaise lifted her head tenderly, his warm lips covering hers. The elves immediately swooped in to set the kitchen to rights as the couple moved to the bedroom, and it wasn’t until much, much later that Hannah thought about her mother-in-law’s impending visit again.

***

Luna giggled along with the school children as she watched Seamus hop out of the cottage in a large Muggle bunny suit. He’d been teaching his students about Muggle traditions, so they’d decided to have an Easter egg hunt to cap off the section, complete with Seamus – Mr. F to his students – dressed as the Easter Bunny. 

She and the Irishman had been dating since the day after Harry and Draco’s housewarming party. Cati had chastised him for drinking at the party, and then again for being so foolhardy as to forget something as important as kissing Luna. Both Seamus and Luna had been scarlet by the end of her lecture, but they were able to talk things through once the mortification had passed. That had been months ago, and they’d settled into a comfortable routine since then, with Seamus practically living in Luna’s cottage and Luna helping him with his lesson plans and grading in the evenings as they sat before the warm fire snuggled together. 

Harry and Draco, whom Luna had summoned for the event, stood with her at the edge of the field, laughing at their struggling friend. It was obviously harder to walk in the costume than Seamus had anticipated, as evidenced by the way he continually tripped over rocks and once even a bench as he made his way toward the field they’d designated for the hunt.

“Someone spell the eye holes bigger,” Harry whispered, laughing when Draco did just that, scaring Seamus badly when he could suddenly see.

“Alright, alright!” Seamus called out, nodding gratefully to Luna when she hit him with a  _ Sonorus _ . Line up with your age group and get ready to begin!”

Thirty students varying in age from four to ten scrambled to take their places. Each was carrying a basket they’d decorated themselves to collect the eggs the older students had Charmed for them. Like the Muggle variety, the eggs opened to reveal candies or small prizes; unlike the Muggle sort, the prizes were actually tucked away inside  _ real _ eggs Seamus and the other teachers had taught the students how to Transfigure.

He nodded at the assembled students, drawing a laugh from them when his large white ears flopped into his face.

“On your mark,” he yelled, raising his hands. “Get set, go!”

There was a blur of motion and sound as the children eagerly darted into the field where the eggs were hidden. Those laid out for the younger students were simply sitting in the grass or on low branches in bushes and trees, but the older children’s were hidden with Masking Spells that they had to undo before finding their prize, ensuring everyone was challenged at their own skill level.

Luna watched the children swarm the field, so proud that this had been Seamus’ idea. He’d brought a new perspective to the school the sanctuary ran, and the other teachers had been surprisingly open to the changes he proposed, like adding Muggle Studies and Potions classes. The school was nowhere near the caliber of Europe’s magical academies like Durmstrang, Beauxbatons or Hogwarts, but he wanted to ensure that the children who were unable to leave the protection of the sanctuary to attend those schools still got a decent education.

She shrieked when furry hands closed around her waist, so startled for a moment that she didn’t realize Seamus had snuck up on her in his bunny costume. Harry and Draco had obviously watched his approach, judging from the smirks on their faces as they watched her struggle to regain her breath.

“Aren’t you jealous of all the fun they’re having?” Seamus asked, stealing a kiss from her when her attention drifted to the giggling children.

“A bit,” she said, tugging on his long rabbit ears. Seamus reached into the pocket of the oversized polka-dot trousers that covered the bunny suit and drew out a brightly colored egg.

“For you,” he said, placing it in her palm.

Luna stared at the magenta egg for a moment before turning a stern look on him.

“Seamus Finnigan, did you steal this egg from those darling children?”

Seamus laughed, curling her fingers around the egg when she tried to give it back.

“I didn’t. I made this one just for you,” he said, his eyes sparkling as hers narrowed in confusion.

She didn’t notice that both Harry and Draco were staring at them intently, or that they had attracted the attention of Cati, Aislin and Fiona, who were a bit further down the field. All eyes were riveted on the couple as Luna cracked open the egg, her startled gasp audible even to those a few yards away.

“Luna Lovegood, will you marry me?”

Luna’s fingers trembled as they reached inside the egg. Instead of the candy or trinket she’d been expecting, it held a delicate sapphire and diamond ring set in white gold.

“It’s a triquetra,” Seamus explained, pulling the bunny mask off so he could look at her properly. It’s an ancient Celtic symbol that represents a trinity – like our past, present and future. It was one of the first magical runes,” he added almost shyly. It had seemed like a stellar idea when Harry and Draco had helped him design it, but he was suddenly unsure.

The main focus of the ring were four triangular diamonds woven together with a thin band of brilliant blue sapphire that formed the actual triquetra. Luna stroked the face of the ring, her finger sliding along the sparkling stones.

“The diamonds are for protection and the sapphire promotes mental clarity,” he continued, worried at her silence. “I can have something else made for you if you don’t like it. I just thought it would –”

“Shh!” Luna chided him, frowning slightly.

Seamus stopped babbling, his heart hammering in his chest, his mind racing. She hated it. She hated  _ him _ . This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to be ecstatic about the proposal and in love with the ring. He  _ knew _ she was. Wasn’t she?

“Don’t ruin my moment,” she said, a dreamy smile transforming her face as she lifted the ring out of the egg and slipped it on her finger. She stood silently, her hand held out to admire the distinctive design as it caught the early afternoon sun.

“How?” she asked finally, a bewildered smile on her face as she looked up at Seamus.

“Draco, really,” Seamus said, relief coursing through him. “I had a design in mind, but he –”

“No,” Luna interrupted, her tone urgent. “ _ How _ ? How did you manage to surprise me?”

Seamus paused, a hot blush creeping up from underneath his collar as he flinched under her stare.

“Seers can’t See themselves,” he offered lamely, wrinkling his nose when she rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. 

“I would have Seen you and Draco plotting this. There was no way you could have had outside help  _ without _ me Seeing it. I’ve been  _ looking _ for this.”

Seamus blinked in surprise, feeling utterly bemused. She’d been looking for a proposal? Trying to get around the natural limitations to See their future? He grinned, shrugging boyishly. He heard Draco stifling a laugh nearby.

“ImayhaveObliviatedyouafteryouhadavisionaboutit,” he said, his cheeks darkening with the full heat of his blush.

“Seamus Finnigan!” she shrieked, drawing the scrutiny of all of their curious onlookers and more laughter from Draco. “You  _ Obliviated _ me?”

Seamus studied her for a moment, trying to gauge how upset she was. He  _ had _ done a horrible thing, but it had been for a good reason.

“Er, I didn’t want to ruin your moment?” he said with a grimace, inching away from her. When she reached for her wand he took off running, ignoring the shouts of laughter from Harry and Draco.

Cati watched in amusement as her future granddaughter-in-law chased her grandson around the field, both of them laughing hysterically as he tripped over his large bunny feet, tackling her as well when he fell. They stayed in a heap on the ground, ignoring the children swarming around them and the applauding adults as they kissed.

Everything was as it should be, she noted with satisfaction. She smiled to herself, already planning the tiny blankets and sweaters she would knit for their layette. There had been snow on the ground in her vision, which meant she’d have a great-grandbabe by next winter.


End file.
